The Anarchist and the Oyster
by gloomyploomy
Summary: A failed assassination attempt has sent Nathaniel and Bartimaeus into another dangerous affair. The growing Resistance was becoming a much more dangerous problem and the elusive Hopkins was only a few steps away. Struggling with internal and external conflicts, Nathaniel and Bartimaeus must work together to survive. A slow Nat/Bart build. Set a bit before Ptolemy's Gate.
1. Oysters

_Nathaniel_

It was just a simple kiss. Nathaniel parted his lips slightly, applying slight pressure against the djinn's false lips. False or not, they were nice lips. Soft and plump. He felt himself relax into the false boy's arms; he almost sighed into the gentle kiss. His mind raced as it often did whenever they kissed. He thought of their first kiss and the strange predicament of the situation; he wondered if the djinn was enjoying the kiss, and if his own lips felt nice. He thought on what the people would think about him and –

"_Shit_. Jane." Wild-eyed with panic, Nathaniel abruptly pulled away from the kiss.

"That's not my name, genius," the false boy grumbled as he rolled his eyes at Nathaniel.

Ignoring his remark, Nathaniel peeled away from Bartimaeus's embrace. Jane Farrar flooded his mind, replacing any thoughts of the kiss as well the djinn's soft lips. It was just a simple kiss. Nothing more.

"I was supposed to meet Jane," Nathaniel said as he recollected himself. Smoothing down the wrinkles on his white buttoned shirt, he nervously glanced up at the djinn. Bartimaeus sat on Nathaniel's untidy desk, his legs dangling from its side. He was in his preferred form but Bartimaeus had aged him up to match Nathaniel's age. His dark, straight hair framed his face, his golden eyes shone and eyed Nathaniel impassively. The djinn yawned.

"Right. So, are you gonna dismiss me while you're on your date?" Bartimaeus tilted his head to the side, his eyes looking into Nathaniel's, challenging him to answer correctly.

Nathaniel grimaced. It's been about six months since he last released Bartimaeus back to the Other Place to replenish and mend his aching essence. He was growing weaker every day; his movements and antics were sluggish when it was once quick and spontaneous. A part of him knew he was being selfish keeping the djinn around; Bartimaeus was helpful in reminding him every other day with petty remarks of abuse. And yet, Nathaniel had trouble letting him go for more than a day. He knew he struggled on letting the djinn go, but he did not know the reason why. Picking up Nathaniel's hesitancy, there were days in which Bartimaeus would try to reach out to him as to why he was being kept around for long periods of time without rest. Unfortunately for the djinn, Nathaniel didn't bear to unearth the reason and often ignored Bartimaeus's concern and verbal abuse. To Nathaniel, nothing ever needed a reason. It just was. At least that's what he told himself.

"_Well?"_ Bartimaeus asked in response to Nathaniel's silence. His voice sounded impatient.

"No."

It was a short answer, but a dreaded one for the djinn. If the djinn had been keeping count, this was his 50th denial in the past month. The false boy let out a frustrated sigh and hopped off the desk, waving a dismissive hand.

"Whatever. Have fun."

Shrugging on his suit jacket, Nathaniel watched Bartimaeus quietly walk towards the window to peer out at the plaza. The shimmering waxing moon hung high in the sky; the stars faintly shone in the dark competing for the spotlight in the dark, empty sky. A pale band of silver of the moonlight spilled into the room through the window and shone against the Egyptian boy's dark skin. Nathaniel noted how ethereal the djinn looked bathed in the silver light of the moon. Committing this moment to memory, he felt a slight ache in his chest, perhaps his heart skipping a beat; thoughts of Jane creeped into his mind. This isn't fair to her… He tore his eyes off the djinn and wiped his clammy hands off on his suit. Before he could change his mind, Nathaniel mumbled a quiet apology. If the djinn heard, he made no notice of it.

"I'll be back around midnight," Nathaniel said, fixing his eyes to the floor. It was easy to regain his authority when he wasn't looking at Bartimaeus. He was, after all, supposed to be the master. "I want you to keep an eye on this building. If I'm not back around midnight, I want you to find me. I will be having dinner at Garden Fair."

Bartimaeus hummed in agreement and fell silent once again. It was like that these days now. Silence. The djinn's snide remarks and crude retort have lessened and lacked meaning. Although it meant no longer having petty arguments, it was still off putting for Nathaniel. Perhaps keeping him on Earth has affected his spirits. Before trotting off to his date, Nathaniel made a mental promise to dismiss Bartimaeus before the week was over. And maybe one kiss. Just a simple kiss; nothing more.

-0o0o0-

The restaurant lived up to its name. It was a small, cordial place but it was ornately decorated with flowers from all over the world. The garden wrapped around the building, ivy clung to the red brick walls, colorful flowers speckled throughout the greenery. Within the restaurant, more flowers could be found in beautiful crystal vases set on each table. In the far corner of the restaurant, away from the bustling conversations of the people, Nathaniel and Jane sat alone in their booth.

Jane laughed, her white teeth flashing beneath her red full lips. In her hand, she held a glass of the finest wine. Nathaniel adored hearing Jane laugh. It acted as a guideline for him, letting him know if he was doing and saying the right things to impress her. For years, there was always tension; no love lost between the two of them. He figured it was the stress of the job and they often found themselves competing against each other. However, even as rivals, Nathaniel always took note on how beautiful Jane was. She was also vicious and ambitious; he admired that. Despite the tension and rivalry, Jane and Nathaniel found themselves together often.

Jane took a sip from her wine. "Tell me, Mandrake. What's a man like you doing these days? How's the search for the mercenary and this Mr. Hopkins?"

Nathaniel sighed. "Truthfully, not good. The only trace we have of Mr. Hopkins is his signature on a book we presumed he checked out at an old library. Nothing of the mercenary."

"That's a shame," she hummed into her wine glass. "Perhaps my men can find him. If you allow me to do your job." Her eyes gleamed with dangerous determination, a slight smirk graced her lips.

Nathaniel forced a smile back. "That won't be necessary. I have some of my most trusted djinns searching for the man." A lie, but it would do. As much as he liked Jane, he dared not let her take over his mission. She was determined and ambitious to climb. If it meant to stomp Nathaniel to climb up, she wouldn't hesitate. It was sometimes difficult dating your rival.

"Speaking of djinns," she purred. The wine was making her loose. "How is that famous djinn of yours: Bartimaeus, was it?"

"What of him?"

"Does he do your missions well? Do you send him to Prague to search for the mercenary?"

Even while slightly intoxicated, Jane always found a way to weasel herself into Nathaniel's affairs. Beautiful as she was, Nathaniel did not want her in his business. Not wanting to give her any more details, he wordlessly nodded. It was another lie, of course. They had given up on finding the mercenary long ago when all traces of him disappeared shortly after Prague. They figured that he would make another appearance in the future and it was best to wait for him rather to expend their energies. Nathaniel imagined this decision would be controversial among those in the government so he kept it to himself. Besides, he did not like to have Bartimaeus gone for too long in far away places. He needed him close by at all times.

"Excuse me."

Nathaniel blinked, pulled away from his thoughts. An aged, frail waiter stood by the table, holding a plate of oysters.

"Fresh oysters for Mr. Mandrake and Ms. Farrar. They were plucked and cleaned early this morning by the harbor. Only the freshest."

Jane let out a squeak of delight; she clapped her hands childishly, practically bouncing in her seat. Nathaniel shrugged. It couldn't hurt to try new things; especially food in a nice restaurant. He reached for an oyster –

Lights flashed before Nathaniel's eyes; the sound of explosion rang about him. Instinctively, he ducked under the table, only to find Jane hiding underneath as well. His ears rang from the near deafening blow but he could hear the sounds of scrambling panic and destruction. Screams and yelps filled the restaurant; women and children scurried out of the restaurant, the men trailing behind their heels. Dust and debris blocked his view, but Nathaniel noticed what was once an old man holding a plate of oysters was now an ugly beast. The beast was wounded, laying on its side. Its essence was slowly oozing out of one of its muscular limbs. A low level djinn.

"What the _hell_ is happening?" Nathaniel frantically searched for a way out. He grasped Jane's hand, ready to pull her out from danger.

"Wait," Jane said. She tugged his arm back down, keeping him in place. "My demon might kill that beast."

"What?" Dumbfounded, Nathaniel peered through the dust. In the center of the restaurant stood another djinn in the shape of a winged man with the head of an antelope. Nathaniel shook his head disapprovingly, listening to the moans of the wounded djinn. "No, don't kill it. Why attack it? What's going on?"

Jane eyed Nathaniel but nodded.

"Okay, enough Sul." From underneath the table, Jane spoke with authority towards her djinn. If there was any symptom that she had been drinking, she did not show it. "Who is this demon? What was the purpose of this?"

The man-antelope djinn shrugged. "I don't know who he is. All I know was that he was planning on killing you two lovebirds."

Nathaniel scoffed. "Kill us? Why?"

"Yup, with poisoned oysters. Beats me. But that's hardly my concern, is it?"

Jane and Nathaniel looked at one another. Attempted murder? Could it be the mercenary or Mr. Hopkins coming back? Or was it another new threat? It seemed that people were finally getting creative with the assassination attempts. No one had attempted to poison him in public. Nathaniel fixed his attention on the wounded djinn. He wondered if he should let Jane's djinn kill it off or if she could ask her to spare it. Sparing the djinn would give him some unwanted attention though…

Jane crawled out from underneath the table, and stood herself up. She brushed off the dust off her skirt and held a hand out for Nathaniel. He took it graciously.

Without hesitation, Jane made a demand. "Sul, ask this demon who is his master. After that, kill him. Make it quick."

The djinn huffed, puffs of steam erupting from his nose. A cackling of fire appeared in the djinn's hands, ready to set the wounded beast aflame. Before anyone could react, the wounded djinn changed form; a shimmering gray mist. With the speed of light, it dissipated within the ground; Sul roared in anger, the fire within its hands flaring up.

Jane shouted an order, "Find that demon, immediately!"

Nathaniel stood silently, watching the roaring djinn change forms to chase after the wounded demon. A raven stood in Sul's place; its beady black eyes frantically searched the building. Jane continued to vehemently shout orders; people were still scurrying out of the restaurants, trampling over the beautiful flowers. In the distant, the sirens and the howls of the Night Police could be heard.

It was once a beautiful night and it was once a beautiful restaurant. All that was left were broken vases and petals; the quiet night interrupted by the shouts and screams of the people.


	2. Simplicity

_Bartimaeus_

The front door slammed shut. The force of the slamming door reverberated through the walls causing the hanging frames shake in place. I heard the heavy stomps of an angry magician go up the stairs and pause, perhaps to open his bedroom door. I waited from his study, sitting on the window sill. Another door slam; this time it was his bedroom door.

I rolled my eyes. Okay, so he had a bad date. I thought of the many different scenarios that could have played out. Knowing Jane, Nathaniel probably said something stupid or let something slip and she took advantage of it. It wouldn't surprise me. Perhaps she finally rejected him. Again, that also wouldn't surprise me. She seemed the type to use people for career and fame gain.

I gave Nathaniel ten minutes of alone time in his room to cool off. After practically raising the kid myself, I've learned that his anger needed to run its course. It was difficult to talk to him whenever he was in this mood. Or in any mood, really. I changed my form into a small sand cat for nostalgic sake. Whenever Ptolemy was ever upset or stressed, he often requested me to be a cat for him. I often sat on his lap as he gently pet me. I figured Nathaniel needed a feline companion as well.

The cat walked up the steps of the small swanky townhouse and sat in front of Nathaniel's bedroom door. It raised a paw and lightly scratched the aging wood. Shuffling could be heard and then the door opened slightly, revealing a very disheveled looking Nathaniel.

I blinked up at him. "What the hell happened to you?"

"An attempted assassination," he mumbled. His cropped dark hair was covered in dust; the suit wrinkled and stained.

I sniffed. Okay, so I hadn't thought about the possibility that an attempted murder might ruin his date. I tutted. He doesn't take me with him to one little date at an innocent restaurant and all hell breaks loose. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Was it Jane?"

He scoffed. "No. In fact, she was the reason I'm still alive. Her djinn saved us. She didn't feel safe without him, and it's a good thing she didn't dismiss him earlier today." He threw himself onto his bed. I padded on light feet behind him and hopped onto the bed, landing softly next to him. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

"I think it was Hopkins and the mercenary."

Ah, right. That failed task. Which is a shame, really. I would like to finally meet this elusive Hopkins and finally get rid of that annoying mercenary. Nothing would bring me much more pleasure than wringing that sorry man's neck with my claws and chucking those damn boots into the Mariana Trench. Nathaniel was tired of the search though; he believed they would come back again with a new plot anyways. Perhaps he was right.

I headbutted his hand, encouraging him to scratch behind my ears. "What makes you think that? How'd they do it?"

"Poisoned oyster. I don't have any reason. It's just a hunch." He absentmindly scratched behind my ear, his mind far away.

I laughed. "_Oysters_? Out of all the things to poison, they use _oysters_? Why not a double chocolate fudge cake or crème brule or – I dunno – Chicken!"

Nathaniel sighed and sat up on his bed, his back against the headboard. He looked at me with tired, sad eyes. I looked at him properly this time. The bags under his eyes were darker; a stark contrast to his pale skin. Stress lines were formed prematurely on his forehead. His shoulder sagged under the weight of his amounting paranoia and fears from the past year, the rising tension occurring in North America, and the increasing attacks of the Resistance. For someone so young, he looked much older.

"The oysters almost worked too…" He said as he rubbed his eyes. "I need to sleep. Bartimaeus, keep watch on the building. In the morning we need to devise a plan. I already have an idea, but I'll sleep on it."

The sand cat nodded and stretched. I was about to hop off the bed to head for the front entrance when Nathaniel stopped me.

"Wait. Can we…" He blushed, his pale cheeks finally getting some color.

"Oh. Right."

I don't know why or how the routine was able to continue. It was just one of those strange things that got carried away. A few months ago, back when Nathaniel was picking up the courage to ask out Jane Farrar, he called me up for a peculiar task. When I appeared before him, he avoided looking into my general direction and stammered out his demands. He demanded that I teach him how to kiss under one condition: I had to be in Jane's form. Of course, I _had_ to tease him. It was his first kiss, no doubt. His face would redden out of humiliation every time we practiced. Sometimes I would bite his bottom lip and he would shriek and spew out all kinds of threats. It was all just a game to me, really.

I didn't mind the task. I've done far worse things during my 5,000 years of service. A simple kiss wasn't a problem for me. I once had to seduce a horse for an elderly magician to coax it out of hiding, but that's a different story. A bit after he demanded we practice, things began to change. One day, he demanded that we practice again 'one last time'. He felt that he was finally ready to have his 'first real kiss' with Jane that night. Just as I was about to change into her form, he stopped me. It was perplexing at first. But then I got curious. Next thing I knew, Nathaniel practiced kissing me in Ptolemy's form. Few days after that, he started to _ask_ for a simple kiss. He no longer demanded. I don't really understand why I continued the act. I felt that it was something the boy needed; some comfort that humans tend to seek. I think I was just mostly curious as to what this was leading. After every kiss, Nathaniel always said the same thing, which was reassuring I suppose. It was just a kiss, and it meant nothing. I didn't really question him. I just did the act. I was, after all, still his slave.

I changed my form into Ptolemy. Nathaniel looked up at me, clear blue eyes searching mine. Not prolonging the situation, I bent down to meet his lips and kissed him gently. I didn't try to do anything funny; he had a long day already and I wasn't really in the mood. His lips moved against mine with a slight pressure. With my hands, I gently caressed his face. I've seen humans do that whenever they kissed; it must be a comforting thing. Nathaniel leaned into my hands, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Then we pulled back away from each other. Simple and short.

"It was just a kiss," he said.

"I know," was my routine reply.

"I'll speak to you in the morning."

With that, Nathaniel dismissed me. It was time for me to watch over the quiet house. I kept my eyes and ears open, scanning every corner of the building. Many things ran through my mind: the attempted assassination, the evil Mr. Hopkins, the annoying mercenary with the damn seven-league boots. It was a restless kind of night.

-0o0o0o-

Like clockwork, Nathaniel woke up early morning. As usual, after a brisk shower, he spent his mornings sipping coffee, absentmindedly reading the newspaper, sorting through his mails. He preferred to be alone in the mornings and didn't talk much. These were his private moments. In the mornings, he was Nathaniel. When the time came, he donned on his Mandrake persona and set himself into business. While he prepares himself for the day, I usually lay stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling and counting the days that I haven't been dismissed. Yeah, I've been keeping count down to the second. It's been 197 days and 17 hours and 54 minutes and 2 seconds since he last let me go.

I often thought of the different ways I could torture the kid to let me go. I think I'm going to try out the medieval style: the one with the flaying. Medieval Europe had some really good ones back in the day; humans were very creative back then. I guess they had to be since all that was left to do was watch the horse kick some sod's head in. But that's besides the point. I have an inkling suspicion that Nathaniel refuses to dismiss me because I'm probably his only friend. And I'm using that term loosely. I also think its because I'm his last link to his childhood. I'm just some nostalgic being that keeps him company when he's lonely. I've had tried to talk to him to reason with him about these suspicion but he wouldn't have it. I'm guessing he doesn't even know it himself either. Well, whatever his reasoning is, it's literally killing me.

"Bartimaeus."

From the comfort of the couch, I looked up at Nathaniel. He was dressed in his usual attire: black slacks and a white buttoned up collared shirt. He really needs to buy new clothes.

"Here's the plan Bartimaeus: Do you remember that book we found in an old library that had Mr. Hopkins's signature?"

"Yeah. That chicken scratch signature."

"Yes, that one. Well, we need to find that book. It could have evidence in it, perhaps even some clue that could lead us somewhere."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean, you didn't keep that book? As evidence? _Ha!_ Sorry, kid. That book is probably checked out by somebody else or something. You're not gonna find it again."

Nathaniel glared at me and crossed his arms. "It did not occur to me that the book could have been useful. But given the circumstances, I think it is important that we retrieve it."

"And then what?"

"We figure out any clues within the book."

"That's it? You're not gonna go to Jane and her hellhounds to search and ransack the city? And what if there is no clue? Or better yet: what if there is no book?"

"Enough questions," he snapped. "There is a book and it will be there. And don't mention Jane again. I don't want her meddling in my work."

I shrugged. "Okay, fine. When do we leave?"

He squared his shoulders, presumably trying to look like an authority figure. Goodbye Nathaniel, and hello to John Mandrake.

He shrugged a coat on. "We leave now."


	3. Book & Ball

_Nathaniel_

It was a gloomy morning. The air was damp and chilly and it smelled of wet Earth. Winter was setting in, replacing the cool breeze of Autumn. Although the sun was out, it could scarcely be seen under the thick blanket of dark clouds that hung low teasing the city of London for a chance of light snow. In the streets of London, passerby walked by huddled among their coats and jackets. Commoners scurried into and out of buildings, and the magicians leisurely walked with their noses high in the air.

In the outskirts of London stood the old library. Long ago, it was a place where commoners could come down to read and learn many things, including magic. However, about a decade ago, the prime ministers and other magicians, fearing of a rebellion among the commoners, stripped the library of any books dealing with magic: history, demons, artifacts, and more. As time went on, less and less commoners came by. Slowly, the library and the books within it, began to age and wither. Despite the ban on magic books by the magicians, it was said that only a few of these books were kept safely within the aging library. It was until Nathaniel and Bartimaeus uncovered Mr. Hopkins's book that they discovered this to be true.

Nathaniel had spent the majority of the morning going down each aisle searching for the book in question. He clenched his fist as he scanned the top of a bookshelf for the 5th time, agitation starting to build up within him. To his left, the djinn materialized.

Bartimaeus crossed his arms, leaning against the bookshelf with a smug smirk. "Is it rude to say I told you so?"

"What?" Nathaniel asked sharply. "I thought I ordered you to check the aisles."

The djinn studied his nails coolly. "I did. About 34 times in the past ten minutes, in fact. The book is gone."

Nathaniel pressed his lips together. If the book was truly gone, then they had nothing to find Hopkins. The case would remain cold, and the threats of assassination would loom over his head. He thought of Jane and wondered if her djinn was able to capture the injured demon. Maybe it was best that she did get involved with the investigation… After all, she was almost killed. A foolish thought came to him.

"Where's the librarian receptionist?"

Bartimaeus thumbed over his shoulder. "Around the corner."

Not waiting for his djinn, Nathaniel turned a corner and found himself facing a small, decadent desk with stacks of withering books and pages sitting on top. Behind the desk sat an elderly man. His wispy, white hair only clung to the side of his head, leaving the top bald and shiny. The loose skin on his neck wobbled whenever the old man moved his gummy mouth. Nathaniel scrunched up his nose in disgust.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm looking for a book titled The Art of Runes and Staff by Clive Potter. I can't seem to find it. Can you assist me?"

"Ah," the elderly man smacked his thin lips. "Yes, I can. Let me check my records here."

With a snail's pace, he plucked out a page from the stacks of papers to his right. Much to Nathaniel's annoyance, the old man took some time scanning the paper, his shriveled finger moving slowly across the page. Nathaniel huffed, and tapped his foot. He hated relying on the elderly. Their minds and bodies were weak and forgetful. They offered nothing useful to him. He would never allow himself to be that frail.

"A bit ageist, aren't we?" The false boy whispered as he stepped next to him.

Nathaniel began to protest when the old man let out a squeal of satisfaction.

"Ah, yes. Here it is," the old man said as he held out the paper to allow Nathaniel to see. "The book is currently checked out by Smith Sweathers. He checked it out quite some time now."

Bartimaeus spoke. "What does he look like?"

"Hmm. Well, if my memory serves me right, he was a young boy. Younger than this young man." He said as he raised his knobby finger at Nathaniel.

Nathaniel grimaced at the old man. He doubted the old man could remember his own name. Yet, it was all that he had.

"What else, sir?"

The old man gummed his lips, thinking quietly. "There were other kids with him. They all wanted this particular book. That's all I can remember."

Nathaniel silently nodded. A gang of children checking out a book dealing with magic. This sounded like another Resistance made up of entirely commoners. If Hopkins also checked out this book long ago, he could be currently active in creating these rebellions. Nathaniel already had his fair share with the Resistance long ago when Kitty Jones was alive. If only Kitty didn't foolishly sacrifice her life… The Resistance could have been quelled up quietly and Hopkins would be sitting behind bars.

Nathaniel grabbed Bartimaeus by the arm, leading him away from the old man. "We need to find these children. They're part of the Resistance."

The djinn tugged his arm out of his grip. "First, don't grab me like that. Its rude and you're getting too comfortable. Second, there's like a million kids here in the city of London. It could be any one of them."

"Not every child will be resistant to magic. We need to find one with magic resistance carrying that book. Then we'll interrogate him."

Bartimaeus scoffed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Easier said than done, pal."

"We'll get it done," Nathaniel said as he pushed the front entrance door. The cold air whipped in, biting into his skin. He tugged his coat tighter, keeping the little warmth he had trapped. Walking across the street, he kept his head low, his eyes fixed on the pavement. Bartimaeus was right. It may take some considerable time to search for the Resistance. Perhaps he could create a trap such as leaving magical items unattended in a public location. It'll be like catching a mouse with a cheese. He looked over at Bartimaeus. To fit in, he wore a large coat very similar to his. Nathaniel gritted his teeth in annoyance realizing that the coat looked better on Bartimaeus then it did on him.

Bartimaeus always found a way to unintentionally annoy Nathaniel in simple ways. Nathaniel hated the way the djinn made the Egyptian boy look older and stronger. As Nathaniel aged, Bartimaeus made a conscious effort to age his guise along with him. Years before, the djinn's preferred form was a small framed child. Now, to what feels like mocking to Nathaniel, the Egyptian child grew. He was a head taller than him, his form still slim but toned. Only the eyes stayed the same. Nathaniel always felt weaker and inexperienced next to this specific form. It also didn't help that it was attractive. Unsuspecting young girls and women would occasionally ogle at the djinn; a young foreign man sporting clothes that fit perfectly on him. Nathaniel often found himself restraining himself from snapping at these women.

Pushing his jealousy aside, Nathaniel forced himself to focus on the current task. "Bartimaeus, we're going back to my place. I need to pick up some papers, speak to Jane about her progress on her djinn hunt, and make a plan to find these children."

"Sounds good to me. Will you dismiss me after that?"

Nathaniel stopped short and chewed on his bottom lip. "I – I was thinking of dismissing you by the end of the week, if that's okay."

"Hallelujah!" The djinn pumped a fist into the air in a festive manner. "Now we're talking."

"Also, when we go back to my place, I want to do that thing we do. If that's okay with you."

"Oh," Bartimaeus paused. "Yeah, sure."

Nathaniel nodded and resumed his long silent walk to his place, his mind clouded with thoughts of the djinn that followed close behind.

-0o0o0o-

The djinn gently caressed Nathaniel's face and leaned forward to meet Nathaniel's anxious lips. Nathaniel kissed back and the djinn responded by applying a bit more slight more pressure into the kiss, deepening it. Nathaniel found his heart fluttering in his chest rapidly, his palms quickly getting sweaty. For the next few minutes, he followed the djinn's lips with his own. He felt himself sigh as Bartimaeus's hand travelled to the back of his neck. He felt a current surge run through his body and raised a hand to tug the djinn's shirt to pull him closer.

Bartimaeus pulled back. His golden eyes frantically searched Nathaniel's face, confused agitation dancing within. "What are you doing?" His hands dropped back down to his side, releasing Nathaniel from his gentle grip. Nathaniel felt exposed suddenly.

"Nothing," Nathaniel stammered. He felt his cheeks go hot. "I just got carried away, that's all." He cleared his throat and wiped his mouth, ridding any evidence of the kiss. It really was nothing to Nathaniel. It was just a simple kiss and his own body's natural reaction gave in for a second.

Bartimaeus narrowed his eyes suspiciously but said nothing. Instead, he turned and plopped himself onto the small, antique couch, feet kicked up high on the coffee table. Much to his annoyance, Nathaniel became too aware of his embarrassment and he gritted his teeth. While he stood there red faced and humiliated, the djinn sat unbothered with a flippant expression. It wasn't fair.

"It doesn't mean –"

"Yeah, yeah," the djinn waved a dismissive hand. "It didn't mean anything."

Nathaniel blinked at Bartimaeus dismissive attitude. It shouldn't matter, anyway. Nathaniel straightened his back. There was no need to dwell on these petty issues. His embarrasment was nothing compared to the situation at hand. He had no time to reason with himself and with Bartimaeus. It was back to business. He needed to talk to Jane.

A knock sounded on his front door.

Bartimaeus raised a lazy eyebrow. "Expecting company?"

Nathaniel slowly shook his head, making his way towards the door. It wasn't always that he received company. If he did, it was usually his assistant dropping off paperwork that he requested. Nathaniel opened the door, revealing a short and very round man.

"Oh, Mr. Makepeace. This is a surprise."

The round man chuckled and bent by the waist for a dramatic bow. "This was my intention, Mr. Mandrake. I came to personally invite you to a ball." The man smiled, his thin lips forcing dimples on his red, pudgy face.

"A ball?"

"Yes! May I enter? Mhm, yes thank you, pardon me. I'm a large man as you know. Oh! Hello there Bartimaeus."

Makepeace made his way into Nathaniel's living space. The djinn nodded as acknodlgement at the man but said nothing.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "I apologize Mr. Makepeace but I'm quite busy. I don't think I can attend –"

"Nonsense, my boy! The ball is for the Prime Minister's birthday. Do you intend to skip out on such celebrations? I'll have you know that the Prime Minister has been most impressed by you. It'll be such a shame for you to skip out on this."

"I hadn't realized," he mumbled guiltily.

"Of course not, my boy!" He chuckled. "Besides, I already invited Ms. Jane Farrar. I already told her that you would be there. Don't want to upset the lady now, do we? Oh ho!" At this, he wagged a pudgy finger at Nathaniel's face.

"I actually need to speak to her."

"Good then! The ball is tonight. You can speak to her then."

Makepeace forced a colorful paper into Nathaniel's hands; it was the ticket to enter the ball. Written boldly in yellow ink at the bottom of the page read 'No Demons Allowed'.

"Tonight?" Nathaniel protested, gesturing at the page. "Not even imps?"

Suddenly interested, Bartimaeus appeared at Nathaniel's side, snatching the invitation from his hand.

"What? I'm not invited?" The false boy quickly scanned the page before handing it back to Nathaniel. He crossed his arms, and cocked his head to side in a quizzical manner. "Hm. Bold of you to disinvite a 'demon' right in front of one."

Makepeace laughed heartily. "I would like to call myself bold and fabulous. So, I'll take the compliment."

The djinn never removed his eyes from the large man. "Uh-_huh_."

A few seconds passed, silence filling the small living space. Nathaniel exchanged awkward glances with Makepeace. Finally, Makepeace stirred.

"Well, I must get going now, Mr. Mandrake. I'll see you tonight. Dress sharp, my boy! I'll show myself out, oh ho!"

After much shuffling and giggling, the large man made his way out onto the hall as Nathaniel closed the door behind him. The ball was tonight and Jane was going to be there. Fear and paranoia took ahold of him, a sudden realization came upon him. Knowing Makepeace, he must have invited all of the high profile magicians into one location. If the Resistance were targeting these magicians, and they caught a whiff of the event, he expected an appearance or an attack tonight. Nathaniel rubbed his temples. With Makepeace request of no demons, this could cause issues. Hundreds of vulnerable magicians without any defenses against dangerous commoners with nothing to lose. No, he needed Bartimaeus to be there.

Bartimaeus plopped himself back onto the couch. "I dunno about you, but I don't exactly trust this Makepeace man. Even his name sounds phoney."

Nathaniel paused to consider the djinn for a second. "He's just a man with an obsession with theater. He's harmless."

Bartimaeus slowly nodded, his mind preoccupied. "I'm gonna be at the party," he finally said with a dull, flat tone.

Nathaniel looked up, his eyes meeting the djinn's. "For once, we agree. I want you there in case another attack occurs. This is the perfect moment for the Resistance to strike."

"Where's the party at? Do you know if it'll be secured with silver to keep out the spirits?"

Nathaniel glanced at the flyer. "It'll be held at the Prime Minister's mansion. It'll be secure, but I doubt they will secure the place with silver and irons. I highly doubt the Prime Minister would dismiss his imps. He's a paranoid old fool."

"Kinda like you, huh?"

Nathaniel ignored him. "If it's possible, I want you to accompany me. I will speak to Jane and you will keep a lookout for any suspicious activity. Place an especially close attention to any commoners."

Bartimaeus gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

Nathaniel looked at the time, chewing on his bottom lip. It was past noon. He needed to eat, find himself an extravagant suit and prepare himself for the ball. Jane would be expecting him.


	4. Attack

_Nathaniel_

Great white heavy door opened, revealing a grand entrance to a large hall. Captivating light from within spilled out into the night as if inviting the guest. The smooth, white tiles glossed under the intricate glass chandelier that hung up on the high ceiling. A stream of magicians entered the grand hall; every single one of them wearing expensive jewelry and clothing. Laughter bubbled, chatter continued, and a chorus of glass clinking together spilled out of the hall. Over the sound of the chatter, classical music could be faintly heard. Butlers roamed around the busy room, handing out bubbly champagne and small, delicate food that smelled delicious.

Nathaniel stood among the crowd wearing a sharp-looking fitted dark suit. He radiated an air of quiet confidence but he could feel his stomach turn uneasily. As expected, the mansion was surrounded in a dome-like manner by a nexus. It was almost impossible for Bartimaeus to enter through the front door unless he somehow got passed the security nexus. Instead, the djinn reassured Nathaniel that he would find a weak point within the nexus and make his way inside. Nathaniel begrudgingly accepted, feeling vulnerable without him around. He tugged at his sleeve and scanned the crowd. A familiar face stood out to him.

Jane strolled forward towards Nathaniel, her beautiful violet dress shimmered under the lights. Her long, dark hair was kept in a sleek ponytail.

"Hello, Mandrake. Should we resume our disastrous date?" Jane giggled as she looped her arms into Nathaniel's. Nathaniel couldn't help tensing underneath light touch.

"Yes, about that," he unlocked his arms from Jane. "I was hoping you could tell me about the attack. Did you catch the djinn?"

Jane's brows moved with mild amusement. "I see you're ready for business." She plucked a glass of champagne from a passing butler. "Well, I have good news and bad news. Bad news is that we caught up to it and then it perished. Good news is that it did mention something interesting."

Nathaniel's face flushed with excitement. "What? What did it – he say?"

She took a sip. "It said something along the lines that the master wouldn't be pleased and that we should expect another attack." Jane leaned closer, whispering this time. "It also mentioned about revenge for Prague."

"Prague?" He asked bewildered.

"_Shhhh,_ keep your voice down. Yes, Prague. We may be under attack by a foreign government."

Nathaniel's eyes widened. He anxiously licked his lips. "We have to mention this to the Prime Minister and the rest."

Jane leaned back, forcing a false smile for a passing gentleman. Nathaniel blinked and looked about; people have been staring, smiling. Nathaniel imitated Jane; an unconvincing smile plastered on his face.

"Why are they looking at us?"

Jane's false smiled turned genuine. "Haven't you heard? _We're _the hottest couple at the ball currently."

She giggled at Nathaniel's obvious discomfort; her arm slipped through his. A passing butler came by to collect her empty glass. As he passed by, he chuckled and winked at Nathaniel.

Despite the passing glances being thrown at his directions, Nathaniel's thoughts swirled. Anxiety had sunk low into the pit of his stomach. The assassin was clearly a magician seeking revenge for Prague. No doubt for the attack made by Gladstone during the war. Is that why they haven't found Hopkins? He could have been in Prague this entire time, biding his time and planning for his next attack. They did encounter the mercenary in Prague while searching for the Golem culprit. Perhaps the mercenary travelled with Hopkins. He wondered if the Resistance stretched throughout Prague as well.

He felt Jane tug at his arm.

"Let's go somewhere private," she said sweetly.

Nathaniel's heart skipped a beat. Any thoughts of the impending danger quickly replaced by the alluring doe-eyed girl looking up at him. He wordlessly nodded, not trusting himself to say anything clever. She led him out of the grand hall, away from the curious stares and glances, and into a much more private corridor. The chatter and laughter felt far away; only the sound of the couple's beating hearts could be heard now. The moonlight streamed into the hall through a glass window; the silver light seemingly peaceful. For a quick moment, Nathaniel thought of Bartimaeus standing by the windowsill looking up at the lonely stars with a sullen look. The moonlight had made him ethereal, unreal, a magical being with power. He was –

Nathaniel shook his head as he felt for the woman's gentle hand on his arm. In the hall sat a small green couch against the wall. Jane gracefully sat on it and patted the cushion next to her prompting Nathaniel to sit. He took the invitation, becoming painfully aware of how close she was. He glanced down at her lips and, upon realizing his mouth was dry, he swallowed. The sound of his heart beating against his chest deafened him. It couldn't hurt to have one quiet moment with her.

With the small bit of courage he was able to pool together, he closed the gap; his lips pressing into Jane's. As if dipping his toe into the icy water, he started with a small peck. Then he gave another. And another. Slowly, the kiss deepened. He felt her reciprocate; soft, plump lips eagerly moving with his. As they kissed, he reached out for her hands. His thumb gently caressed her palms. He felt her smile against his lips. She pulled back slightly, her lips curled mischievously.

"You're a good kisser, John," she purred. Without warning, her hands went straight to his throat, tugging and loosening his tie.

"What are you doing? It took ages to have that tie done perfectly!" He pulled back, grabbing her grasping hands.

"I just want to have you all to myself." She leaned into Nathaniel, her weight pressing down on him. He could feel her hot breath. "There's an unoccupied room upstairs. We _could_ slip away into the room…"

Nathaniel bit his lower lip, hesitant. She sensed it.

"Oh, come on Mandrake!" She stood up and tugged at Nathaniel's arm, using her weight to have him rise from his seat. She stepped close to him, purring into his ear seductively. "It'll be fun. You and me, tangled together."

Uncertainty prevented him from answering but Jane hardly cared. She pressed down onto his chest, leaving soft, wet kisses that trailed from his neck to his jawline. Nathaniel inadverdently closed his eyes. Images of a dark-skinned boy flashed before his eyes. He pushed them away, focusing on Jane's gentle touch.

"A-_hem!"_

Jane gasped, swiveling around to face the direction of the sound; Nathaniel, too shocked and embarrassed, unlinked himself from his date's grip. It wouldn't matter though. Someone had already spotted him being inappropriate at the Prime Minister's birthday party.

A handsome young man with a shocking, red hair stood in the corridor. His emerald green eyes narrowed at the couple, a sour look etched onto his freckled face. Nathaniel took note of his suit and how it fit in all the right places.

"And _what_ exactly are you two doing?" The man asked.

Jane sniffed. "I hardly think that's any of your business Mr …" she trailed off, expecting the man to finish for her.

"Names aren't important. I need to speak to Mandrake immediately. Now leave or I'll have a small chat with the Prime Minister about your vulgar acts that occurred underneath his roof."

Jane turned to look at Nathaniel; there was quizzical look on his face. Something about the man was familiar to Nathaniel but he couldn't point out what it was. Defeated, Jane huffed. Without a backward glance at Nathaniel, she stormed off past the man, out of the corridor and into the grand hall with the festivities. The man crossed his arms.

"You're an idiot," he said hotly.

Ah. It was just Bartimaeus. Nathaniel sighed, relieved to finally have his djinn. He relaxed his tense shoulders and walked towards the angry djinn.

"Did you hear what I said?" Bartimaeus asked sharply.

It was Nathaniel's turn to be dismissive. "Yes, yes. That I'm the biggest idiot in the world and that I'm the worst magician ever and how I should – _Ow_!"

With a quick decisive movement, Bartimaeus had smacked Nathaniel on the back of his head.

"What was that for!?" Nathaniel snapped, rubbing the soreness away.

Bartimaeus jabbed his finger in the air in front of Nathaniel's face. "_That_ was for losing your sight of the mission for some pitiful sex! To think _I_ was coming down here to help your sorry ass."

"I wasn't going to have sex!" Nathaniel protested, his cheeks going hot.

Bartimaeus laughed but it lacked all warmth. He swayed his hips and batted his eyelids. "Oh, dear me Natty," he spoke with a mocking voice. "Let's go into the _unoccupied room _and have some _fun alone time. _And oh! Lemme _slobber all over your neck_ while I'm at it!"

Nathaniel glared at Bartimaeus. "That's enough, Bartimaeus."

The djinn swiftly turned on his heels heading towards the grand hall; Nathaniel followed, glaring at the back of the djinn's head. "And," Bartimaeus continued. "Can you _imagine_ what would happen if I was a little bit delayed? _Who knows!?_ For all we know, by the time I found you, you could be two inches inside her disappointing the poor girl! That is if you knew which hole to put it in."

Anger spilled out. "Bartimaeus, I said that's enough!" He balled his hands into fists, his body shaking into rage.

Bartimaeus stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face the young magician. He jabbed a finger into Nathaniel's chest.

"I'll have you know that I –"

A flash of blinding light engulfed the room. A force lifted Nathaniel into the air and slammed him against the wall. His head made contact with the hard tiles; his ears rang and his head swam. His exposed skin was stinging and he grimaced in pain. Muffled screams could be heard; he opened his eyes as he breathed in. Choking hot air rushed into his lungs, burning him from within. Red flames licked the elegant curtains that filled the room; large dark curls of smoke rose to the ceiling. Nathaniel coughed, struggling to breathe. His lungs felt like they were burning. The muffled screams were louder now. He noticed shattered glass scattered about on the floor, red dancing lights of the fire being reflected. He staggered to his feet, leaning against the wall for support, gasping for air. Where was Bartimaeus? With great effort, he heaved himself from the wall and entered the grand hall. He looked in horror at the chaos that seemed to have been erupted within.

The screams and cries were clear now. Through the thick smoke and the many falling ember, Nathaniel noticed a burning scorched mark in the center of the grand hall. Black smoke rose from the center, twisting in complex patterns, rising to the top where large fires ate the delicate wood. A foul smell hung in the thick air. There were several bodies strewn across the floor; dark blood pooling onto the tiles. Women with tattered and burning dresses ran; men with torn sleeves and ash on their panicked faces pushed their way through the doors. Debris of torn walls laid scattered. Nathaniel screwed his eyes shut pushing the headache forming in the back of his head. Just as he expected. Another attack and the Resistance were successful. Where _was _Bartimaeus?

His eyes opened abruptly. The Prime Minister. Jane. He attempted to squash the rising bubble of panic inside. It would do no good to run around screaming like the rest of these fools. He needed to find Bartimaeus. Nathaniel rushed towards the still bodies at the center. There were seven in total; all of them great magicians. He felt his throat tighten up. This was not good, but at least they weren't the Prime Minister and Jane. He looked up, eyes frantically searching the room for anything.

There! Across the grand hall running towards him was a boy. A young child with brown mousy hair. It was most likely a magician's assistant coming to run to Nathaniel seeking help. Nathaniel half jogged, stepping over bodies and debris, ready to meet the boy halfway. The running boy pulled something from his bag; Nathaniel paused. Something wasn't right. The boy held his hand up high. A small sphere sat in his hand. An elemental sphere. Nathaniel screamed, tripping over debris and falling backwards. The boy locked eyes with Nathaniel and smiled sneeringly.

He threw his arm back, ready to throw –

A large, dark mass slammed into the boy. The child shrieked; kicking and screaming at his attacker. On shaky legs, Nathaniel scrambled up. Blood seeped into his sleeves where the broken glass had pierced through and cut his skin. He hadn't realized.

"Let me go!"

"Ow! That's my eye, you runt." A gargoyle pinned the boy down, one hand rubbing its sore eye.

The child screamed and kicked some more as the gargoyle tightened his grip. Nathaniel reached the altercation.

"Bartimaeus, where _were you_? You disappeared on me!"

The gargoyle looked peeved. "Where do you _think_? I rushed in to find these kids. There was like ten and they all scattered like roaches. I'm only one being. I can't exactly scoop them up in a basket like I'm on some easter egg hunt."

The boy squirmed underneath Bartimaeus grasp. "Foul demon. Get. Off. Me!"

Bartimaeus growled, baring his sharp fangs. "Please refrain from using such language, _human._" Bartimaeus threw a glance at bag. "Mandrake, do me a favor and look into that bag , _por favor_?"

The boy screamed out in protest, yelling out threats and curses as Nathaniel reached for the torn bag and zipped it open. More elemental spheres; about three more, in fact. He rummaged through the bag some more: a silver knife, a bracelet that most likely had some magic, a scrying glass and papers. Nathaniel pulled out the papers, his eyes scanning and smiled.

"It's a photocopy of Hopkin's book!"

A wry smile twisted on the gargoyle's lips. "Now we're getting somewhere! Looks like we're interrogating you, kid."

From the doors of the grand hall, a commotion could be heard. With great relief, Nathaniel saw the Prime Minister being heavily surrounded by the Night Police as they escorted him out of the building. They pushed through the remaining scrambling magician. Among the Night Police was Jane. She spotted Nathaniel from the distance and limped towards him carrying her heels. Her pony tail was no longer sleek, and her dress was torn towards the bottom. A smudge of ash and blood covered her neck.

"Jane!" Nathaniel held out a hand as she stepped over a body. She took it.

"I should have known that was your demon scaring us off like that during a very private moment."

Nathaniel handed her the papers. "Jane, look! This book is a link to Hopkins."

Her eyes widened. "This is big." She looked over her shoulder, anxiously glancing back at the Prime Minister. "This is the plan: We're going to my place. It is much more secure and private. We'll take the prisoner and we can interrogate him together. No one else can know about this until the situation is dealt with. If anyone finds out, the situation can become much more complicated and we'll have to do things through the legal system."

Nathaniel scrunched his nose. He despised how slow things got whenever the law got involved, especially during trial. The captured boy squirmed again.

"That's all very well and all, but can we go now?" Bartimaeus groaned as the boy wrenched his hand free to punch the gargoyle's head.

Nathaniel nodded, stuffing the papers back into the bag. He had evidence now. He was getting closer to capturing the assassin. Years of searching throughout every single building in London to the rest of the country and coming up short had exhausted him. Although the battles in America has just begun, he felt as if he could win the war with the Resistance. He looked into the squirming boy's eyes; hate and anger danced within. He only hoped the boy would cooperate.


	5. Interrogation

_Bartimaeus_

I made sure the rope was tight around the kid. The annoying little prat kept squirming and I was _tired_ of lugging him around. He sat bound in a chair in Jane's living space. The place was a bit roomier compared to Nathaniel's. It was a little too barren though. She just had the bare essential: a simple couch and a coffee table. No television, fireplace or even picture frames on the wall. Must be a minimalist thing. But she was right about the security. At the front entrance of her place, two djinns stood keeping watch.

The boy gritted his teeth and let out a stream of curse words. It was all very cute, mind you. The kid had the ferocity of a feral cat. Since he favored using his scrawny legs to kick, I paid extra close attention to them and tied them tightly against the chair's legs with a finishing bow at the top.

"I'm not talkin'! You magicians can't make me talk!"

A scowling Nathaniel stood in front of the kid, his arms crossed. Jane stood next to him holding the pages she retrieved from the kid's bag. Nathaniel kicked the chair. That was him trying to be bad cop.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"As if I would tell you," the kid snarled. He hocked a loogie and spat it on Nathaniel's face. Or attempted to. The glob of phlegm and mucus pitifully dribbled onto his own chin. I cringed at the second-hand embarrassment. Nathaniel and Jane both frowned.

"We have ways to make you talk," Jane said. "One way or another, we're going to get the information we want."

Nathaniel nodded in agreement. "Exactly, so start talking." He kicked the chair again. As if that worked the first time.

The child squirmed in his seat, no match for my expert rope tying skill. "You can't do anythin' to me. I'm resistant to your magic." The boy sneered. "Any of your lil' spells will fail, eh?"

I was getting bored at the lackluster interrogation. Nathaniel's chair kicking was just pitiful so I thought it was my turn to step in and act as bad cop. Ignoring Nathaniel's objection, the gargoyle gave itself a _nasty_ look to it. I'm talking scales that made you itch by looking, cracks that oozed with indistinguishable liquid, and some bad breath. I towered over the kid, spreading by large, leathery wings; I made the wings look tattered to add some spooky effect. I chose a deep voice, the kind that reverberates within you.

"Magic? Yes. But how will your resistance fair up against me swallowing you whole." I curled my lips, revealing my long, sharp fangs to really make a point. Saliva dripped from my mouth, steam rose from my back, my eyes glowed red and the temperature dropped. The wind picked up, and swirled around the kid and I.

"Better yet," I continued. "Why eat the whole thing if I can just savor it? Start off nice and _slow_. Which limb should I start?" I bent my head low, getting a deep sniff of the kid.

I heard a satisfying gulp from the kid. He was trembling in his seat, his horror-stricken eyes looking into my hungry mouth. Like a fish gulping for air, the kid moved his lips in an attempt to speak. Only a squeak came out. Yup. I still got it. I let the theatrical tricks die off; the wind died down and the room temperature returned. I kept the glowing red eyes to look impressive.

Nathaniel shove me aside. "Talk," he said.

"M-mine name is George. George Woods," he admitted, lips quivering.

"These pages," Jane said as she held out the photocopies of Hopkins's book. "How'd you come across this? You already admitted to us that you're part of the Resistance. Who are you working for? Where and who is Mr. Hopkins?"

The kid, George Wood, readjusted himself in his seat. Well, at least tried to. He kept a wary eye on me. "I was given those copies. Everyone in the Resistance has one to help us identify and learn how to use any magical weapons we have managed to collect."

"By collect, you mean steal. Who gave them to you?" Nathaniel leaned his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on his prisoner.

"Nancy. She got it from Arthur. And Arthur got it from Smith – "

"Smith Sweathers?" Nathaniel interrupted. The kid nodded. Smith Sweathers, the mysterious person that checked out the book before we could get to it. Well, that mystery was solved.

"So Sweathers checked out this book to create photocopies of it," Nathaniel continued. "Before him, a man named Mr. Hopkins had checked out this very same book. This person was also involved in another Resistance attack years prior. I assume you know the whereabouts of this elusive man? And don't lie! Or I'll let my demon devour you!"

I snarled at the kid, flashing my sharp fangs near his face. He yelped. Good, gotta keep him on his toes.

"I don't know anythin' about a Hopkins, sir! Smith Sweathers was the leader of the group! There were 15 of us. Smith gave us the plans and we followed through. B-but he would have meetings with someone else but we were never allowed in there. I never saw who he talked to, I swear! We all never did!"

Jane stepped forward. "Where is Smith Sweathers?"

The kid's eyes glazed over, his lips quivered. "Dead. It was a suicide mission. I was supposed to die too. We used elemental spheres to attack you lot and try to take down as many as we could."

Jane sighed defeatedly. Nathaniel groaned and threw his arms in an exasperated manner. These Resistance kids were very dedicated for their cause. I thought of the burning, scorched mark that was left in the center of the grand hall. That must have been Sweathers letting the elemental sphere doing its work, taking him and the unfortunate surrounding magicians down. The direct impact of the explosion must have been so great. There wasn't a single drop of flesh of the obliterated Sweathers. I looked at the kid and felt pity. I was in the same boat as this kid; we're all under the magician's ruling thumb. Many of my kind have attempted the same; all of them have paid for it dearly. With rebellion comes sacrifices.

A phone rang somewhere in the building. Jane excused herself, leaving an annoyed Nathaniel and I with the kid. After a moment, Nathaniel recomposed himself, passing his hands through his hair.

"Where does your group meet?" Nathaniel asked sharply.

"At a pub's basement. Leaky Plug. It's by the post office."

"Any traps we should expect when we search?"

"No, sir."

Nathaniel nodded, his eyes searching the kid's face. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a stream of vulgar language. Jane ran into the room with a sense of urgency.

"I have to go," she said, quickly tucking in her dress shirt. "There has been another attack – "

"What!?"

" – the Night Police need me. I'll update you, John."

To my surprise, she quickly kissed his cheek before slamming the door behind her. Not to my surprise, Nathaniel stood there dumbly red-faced. I _really_ wanted to tease Nathaniel but there's a time for everything. I'll bring it up later. The important thing was that there was another attack. One thing I know about rebellions is that there are hundreds of mini groups all doing their own thing; all of them united by one common cause. I wondered if this was a different group, or if this attack also belonged to Hopkins. Or whoever this mysterious person this kid mentioned that Sweathers was meeting up with.

The kid whined. "I've told you everythin'! Let me go!"

That snapped the love-dazed Nathaniel back. He paused, chewing on his bottom lip. By the look of his face, I could tell he didn't think he would get this far. Now he has _no_ idea what to do with this squirt. I waved at him to get his attention and pointed a claw at my stomach. He frowned. There goes my meal.

He clapped and rubbed his hands together. "Okay, George Woods. Here's the deal. You are technically an enemy of the country; a traitor, in other words. Traitors like you don't last very long after being arrested. I expect you to be murdered in a painful way in the next week –"

The kid let out a cry.

" - _However_, because you cooperated with us, you will receive protection under these specific conditions. You do not join another Resistance group, you will keep your head down low and you will not tip your friends off as to what has occurred. If you think about betraying any of these conditions, I'll have a demon smite you down. And don't think I won't know! I could be watching you from anywhere. Are we clear, George Woods?"

The boy nodded silently. His shoulders sagged with fear and worry. I did too. My intuition was itching; something was missing.


	6. The Pub

_Bartimaeus_

Dawn was peeking out over the horizon, casting orange-yellow lights on the wispy clouds. The sky looked as if it was on fire but Nathaniel still shivered underneath his coat. We stopped in front of an old, uninviting looking pub. A neon sign that read 'OPEN' flickered against the stone wall. The window shutters were shut, and the rickety porch leading to the front door moaned underneath our feet. Going through the planes, I quickly scanned the building but didn't find any traps or defense. So far, so good.

With careful steps, we circled around the back of the building and found a hidden trapdoor. I lifted the door and peered in, Nathaniel looking over my shoulder.

"What do you see?" He asked.

"Nothing. No defenses or traps or anything. I don't think anyone is down here."

I backed up from the trap door, quickly changing my form into Ptolemy. If anyone was down there, it'd be better for them to see a human face instead of a warty gargoyle.

"I'm gonna go down there and check, Nat. Stay put until I tell you its safe."

Nathaniel nodded and ushered me down the basement. One thing the kid was good at was following my directions. While we may argue at an unhealthy amount, he does trust my judgement. Stepping down the steps of the basement, I felt around the walls for the light switch and flipped it. A singular bulb flickered on, revealing a cramped room. On one side of the room, a map of London was plastered against the stony wall. Red circles were scattered throughout the map, lines and writings written underneath each. Against the wall, underneath the map, was a low table with silver weapons strewn on top. I winced and stepped away from it. To the other side of the room, I noticed a silver chest next to a wooden door. Carefully stepping around the chest, I opened a door. It was a small, study-like room. A desk sat in the center with papers and books neatly stacked on top. A filing cabinet was found in the corner.

Whatever this room contained, it was about to make Nathaniel extremely happy. I called him down, and reassured him that the room was safe. He quickly bounced down the steps, eager to begin his search. It was like watching a kid during Christmas morning. I swear I saw foam spewing out of his mouth as he decided which room he wanted to search through first. I stood back near the steps, away from the stinging aura of the silver.

Nathaniel opened the silver chest and pulled the contents from within. He piled them neatly on his side as he observed each object.

"Very curious. We need to check for any robbery reports in the past year or so. We might also need to find out where they're getting this insane amount of elemental spheres. It's too dangerous to have them out and about like this!"

I sat down with my legs crossed. "They seem to like to steal weapons that are very accessible to them. Did you check out the map on the wall? It has your home circled."

Nathaniel looked up from the chest, stunned. "What? They know where I live?"

He rushed across the room towards the map, eyes frantically scanning, taking as much details as he could.

"They were watching me?" He said with a trembling voice. "I mean, I - I knew they were following me. They must have if they knew I would be at the restaurant with Jane but… my _home_!?"

He raised a shaky hand, raking his fingers through his hair.

"How long have they been watching me…?"

I heard his breath quicken. I thought about changing my form into a cat to offer some comfort but the cold silver in the room was making my essence sting. The only thing I could do was distract him from an oncoming panic attack.

"You and Jane, huh? How's that going?" I asked.

He said nothing but took a shaky breath in. His whole body was trembling now. He leaned against the table, eyes screwed shut.

"Nat, why don't you come over here closer? Let me help."

I heard a wet sniff. Ah, great. It was always awkward when people cried. When it comes to crying, my whole schtick is to pretend to not care while I secretly panic on the inside. I never know how to console anyone. Not even a baby. Just ask Faquarl about my baby sitting duty back in Rome. I'd rather calm an angry or frightened person but with my miserable luck, I always end up stuck with a crier. Over the years, after much angry explanations from Faquarl, I learned that a simple sympathetic pat on the back is enough. But given the situation, I can't exactly do that until Nathaniel came closer. I was left with only one choice.

"Earlier Jane kissed you and you looked shell-shocked. Did she have bad breath? I always figured she had one. She's all beauty on the outside but I think she's rotting on the inside. I imagine that every time she opens her mouth, flies starts flying out everywhere searching for a corpse. Do you like her? I sure hope not. She's a major bitch, but I guess that's your type. You seem the type to –"

"Stop, Bartimaeus. You're annoying me." Nathaniel sniffed, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hands. He took in a calm shaky breath. He seemed to be doing better.

"That's the point, bud. Anyways, were you _really_ going to sleep with her? Did you have the proper sex talk? I don't think poor old Arthur Underwood or his wife made you take some sex education before they perished. If you want, I can show you videos."

He shook his head, his snotty nose scrunched up. "No! No, that won't be necessary. I already know how its done."

I cocked my head to side. "So you _were_ gonna sleep with her?"

His trembling had finally subsided. He took a final deep breath, his fingers running through his hair habitually. He took one last wet sniff and sighed. Feeling that he gained enough composure, he entered the room with the desk. It was back to business.

"I like her," he grumbled as he opened the desk's drawers to rummage through. "She's nice and all but something is missing. I'm not sure I'll sleep with her."

I laughed. "_Nice?_ Right. Didn't think you were the romantic type, Nat. I'll admit that I didn't strike you as the kind who believed in soulmates. What's missing? Is she not hot enough?"

He pulled out a folder and paused. "This folder. It has a list of names. It's the Resistance's roster."

"Read it out to me. Maybe a familiar name will stick out."

He shook his head as he read the list. "Aaron Pluzky, Smith Sweathers, Nancy Keen, Arthur Jules, George Woods, Jakub Pol, and more. You won't know them besides the two obvious ones. No Hopkins."

He folded the folder and stuffed it in his coat's pocket. He glanced around the room one last time.

"You know what I noticed?" He asked, his voice seeming far away. "There's no pentacle. The assassin, or Hopkins I assume, must be a magician since he sent a djinn to kill me. He must have some other hideout."

I made an affirmative sort of noise. "Are you keeping that list to find and interrogate them?"

"Yes, I'm planning on doing that. But," he paused, looking at me. He held out his hands in an apologetic manner. He made that face that spelled trouble. "I _think_ we need to go back to Prague."

I let out a lengthy groan. See, Nathaniel and I, we aren't exactly the most _favored_ duo in Prague. In fact, after the whole Golem fiasco and the invasive search for the mercenary, we received a very angry lengthy letter on how we should never return to Prague. I briefly scanned the letter when it came in. It mentioned something about causing chaos and disruption and ruining an elderly woman's bath time. I try not to remember that part. Although, not all of it was our fault. Back when we were dealing with the mercenary, it came up that we were being falsely accused of planting a bomb within the city. With threats like that, you're bound to get banned.

"I know, I know," he continued hastily. "But Jane told to me how the assassin's djinn mentioned seeking revenge for Prague. We _have_ to infiltrate Prague, blend in with the people, and try to seek out the information. I have some sneaking suspicions that the Resistance group have been spreading throughout Europe. Perhaps if we find one in Prague, we can pinpoint Hopkins."

I passed a hand over my face, exhaustion weighing me down. "Whatever happened to not getting Jane involved in your schemes? Fine. We'll go to Prague. _But_! There's a _big_ but there. Did you hear it? _But_ if there is a _slight_ chance that we would be getting caught, we're leaving. Understood?"

Nathaniel gave a curt nod. Good. I had no intention of dying in a miserable place like that. I caught Nathaniel's eyes flick towards the map, staring intently at the red circle that surrounded his home. It was almost like a target bullseye. With ease, he tore the map from the wall, shredding it to smaller pieces.

"I do have to thank you in something though."

I arched an eyebrow. "Oh? An unprompted thanks from a magician? This will sure be the headline for today's news broadcast."

He rolled his eyes but I spotted a faint smile. "Jane said I was a good kisser. I think I have to thank you for the practice."

"Yeah, your first kiss was lousy as hell. I thought you've mistaken my mouth for food or something."

His cheeks went red, his brows furrowed. "Stop lying. And I don't consider those practice kiss as my first kiss. Jane was my first kiss."

"_Jeez, _I don't count?" I stood up, stretching out my sore legs. "Dude, no offense, but we practically made out."

His scowl twisted. "We did not make out, we just –"

"Kissed?"

"Yes, and it meant – "

"Nothing. Yes, I know. Nothing ever means anything to you. But that still doesn't change the fact that I was your first kiss by technicality _and_ you haven't really fully explained to me what was wrong with Jane. Not that I can't see it myself."

Nathaniel motioned to speak but paused. He bit his lip. For some reason, it irritated me.

"Can we get out of here? My essence is hurting." I didn't wait for his reply. I was already going up the steps.

"Bartimaeus, wait. Before we leave, can we –"

"No. Not until you tell me what's going on with you and Jane."

His brows furrowed. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Fine, then you won't get anything."

He scoffed at me. "It's not like I need you anyways. Jane said my kissing was – "

"Congratulations, dipshit! As if anything I say or do means anything to you. Go ask for a kiss from her then. I think my work here is done."

He blinked at me in surprise, his ears turning red. I held a breath, waiting for the John Mandrake to take control and to bark out orders. And it came. It was like a light switch flipping on in his brain. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. His voice went cold and stern.

"Fine. Bartimaeus, go ahead and fly to my study. Wait for me in your pentacle. I'll pack and then I'll summon you again once I'm in Prague. I plan to leave tomorrow night. I just need to meet Jane before I go. I'll give you the rest of the plan once I speak to you in Prague. Is that clear?"

I didn't say much. I just went.


	7. Confusion

_Nathaniel_

Somewhere, beyond his bedroom window, a bird sang out a tune to the rising morning sun. On his hands and knees, Nathaniel peered underneath his bed and retrieved his luggage. He looked over his shoulder for the fifth time, searching for anything strange or out of place. In contrast to the carefree bird happily singing its song, Nathaniel struggled to keep his anxiety at bay. As he packed, his hands trembled and his heart hammered against his chest, his stomach turning slightly. The singing bird paused for a moment; Nathaniel hesitated, looking out the window. He could only see the swaying bare branches of a tree that stood too close to his townhouse blocking the view to the rest of the plaza. Suddenly, a flurry of movements scampered up from the tree. Nathaniel scrambled to his feet, pulling a silver knife from his pocket that he plucked from the Resistance's hideout that night. He narrowed his eyes at the offending movement on the tree. It was just a squirrel. Nathaniel cursed and let himself relaxed.

This was no good. His own home was no longer safe. He felt violated. Anger slowly building, he held the silver knife tightly, its cool touch giving him some comfort. If a demon were to come to attack him, he wouldn't be completely defenseless. After all, he did also take the elemental spheres. If things came to that, he could always chuck it at the demon and hoped for the best. It's a good thing he'll be leaving the country and be gone for quite some time. If the Resistance weren't watching, he felt he could sneak past them and have them lose their trail on him. Any more attempted assassinations would have to wait for them. He took a deep breath, calming his tense nerves. Jane would be here any minute.

After stuffing one last clean shirt, he clipped his luggage shut and looked about him. They say that a person's bedroom reflected a person's mind. If this was true, Nathaniel could use some help. He grimaced at the mess. The bed was unmade, sheets and pillows were thrown unceremoniously to the side. The bin beside his nightstand was overflowing with balled up crumpled notes from many sleepless nights. His dressers and drawers were all half opened, clothes spilling out of it. Dust collected in thick sheets over every surface of his room. At least his study room was neat.

A knock on the door sounded, prompting Nathaniel to move. A beaming Jane stood behind the door; Nathaniel ushered her in.

"Good morning, John." She said cheerfully, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. She looked down, noticing a packed luggage by his feet. Her smile faltered. "Going somewhere?"

"Yes, I'm going to Prague."

Jane shifted. "Do you have a lead with Hopkins and the mercenary? The resistance kid talked?"

"I do, and yes. He gave me the location of their hideout and I've found some names." From his pocket, he pulled out the folder with the list of names and placed it in her hands. "I'm going with Bartimaeus undercover. I was hoping you could cover for my absence. This is the list of names I've found while searching. I need you to find and interrogate them. No one must know that I'm gone. I also found out that the Resistance have found out where I lived."

Jane gasped, hastily looking about her. "You mean they could be listening to us right now? I _knew_ my place was much more secure."

Nathaniel placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. "They could be listening," he admitted, almost whispering. "Be wary of your surroundings and change your route constantly in case anyone is following. I'll be gone for a bit. I don't know when I'll return. Also, can you give me an update on the Resistance attack? The one that had you leave during the interrogation."

She leaned in closer, whispering. "Two more kids attacked a bar that the magicians frequently visit. The kids are dead but they took down two more of our men. It was similar to the attack at the Prime Minister's home. We took in the bodies and we're identifying them."

Nathaniel nodded slowly, letting the information stew around his mind. "How is the Prime Minister?"

She sighed. "He hasn't come out of his private home. I have my men surrounding his property. He also had several of the ministers to summon a demon to protect him. He's gone mad with paranoia."

Nathaniel stayed silent. He could hardly blame the Prime Minister now. He often felt he was going mad himself. Not even moments ago, he was scampering away from a squirrel like a mewling child. Nathaniel reached out a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He suddenly felt very tired. The lack of sleep was getting to him.

"Do you plan to leave soon?" Jane asked. A curious mixture of excitement and concern could be heard in her voice.

Nathaniel stifled a yawn. "Yes, I leave in a few hours."

"Hmmm. In the next day or two, we're having a public funeral for the magicians we've lost in the two attacks. It's going to be a grand event, but we're not sure if we want to have the commoners join in. Can't really tell who is in the Resistance among them. Since you'll be absent, is there anything you would like to say so I can pass it on?"

"Oh, um. Say something along the lines that I think they were great and influential magicians. And mention that while they may be gone, they leave behind power. Or something like that."

Jane paused. "When's the last time you slept, John?" She asked, reaching to hold his hand.

Nathaniel pulled back. "Please, don't try to convince me to go sleep. I have a flight to catch in a few hours."

"At least get some sleep on the plane ride."

"I'll attempt to."

"Well, if you won't sleep…"

Jane stepped close, glancing down at his lips. Nathaniel blinked; she pressed her lips into his. She leaned into him making him lose his balance slightly. Nathaniel half-heartedly kissed back, letting Jane take control. She threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. His heart hammered against his chest and his hands hovered over her waist awkwardly. Despite, his eagerness to please her, Nathaniel felt something was missing.

_Nothing ever means anything to you_.

He raised a fumbling hand to cup her face gently. He angrily suppressed any thoughts of Bartimaeus. The last thing he needed was to focus on an argument while kissing his date goodbye. Suddenly, Jane's tongue brushed his lips; his eyes shot open from the shock. Bartimaeus hadn't taught him how to kiss with _tongue_. _Shit_. Clumsily, Nathaniel returned the favor, his tongue passing slightly against hers. He shivered. It felt like a slug.

With quick hands, Jane reached to his belt, loosening it. Nathaniel pulled back, eyes wide open.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean? I just want to give you something to remember me by when you're gone." She said, giggling.

"No, stop." Nathaniel grasped her hands, pushing her off gently. Her smile faded, brows furrowing.

"Is something the matter? Is it me?"

Nathaniel struggled to answer. Truthfully, he didn't have one. After sputtering and stammering, he stopped and took a breath. He could feel Jane's hot eyes on him. She was obviously humiliated. He needed to come up with a good answer.

"No, I just don't think I can do that… now." He felt the back of his neck go hot. "I'm just stressed, that's all. My mind is somewhere far away and I won't be able to, um, enjoy it."

Jane's eyes softened, her tense shoulders relaxing. "Oh, I hadn't realized. I'm sorry, John. Just let me know when you're ready, okay?"

Nathaniel recomposed himself. "It's fine. It was my fault for not being completely honest." It was partly true, at least.

"I need to finish prepping for my leave, Jane. Please excuse me."

"Oh, right. I'll get going now. Let me know as soon as you get back. I'll look into these suspects and interrogate the ones I can find." She hurried to the door, gathering herself together. She looked back at Nathaniel, a sad smile on her lips. "Um, have a safe flight and trip, John. And I'm sorry again."

Jane shut the door behind her, leaving Nathaniel alone.

Nathaniel waited, hearing her soft footsteps fade off as she walked away. His throat tightened, his lips quivering.

_Nothing ever means anything to you._ Begrudgingly, as if a giant wave of grief had washed over him, Nathaniel found himself failing at holding back hot tears. He fell to his knees, a soft sob erupting from within. He gasped, and coughed, and coughed again. The tears continued to fall, and his shoulders shook. He drew in a shaky breath trying to calm the wave of complicated emotions within him. He couldn't do it. He felt nothing. He had the chance to _be _with Jane, and he couldn't do it. The kiss with Jane meant absolutely nothing to him. He thought of all of her redeeming qualities: she was beautiful, ambitious, intelligent, strong. Not that long ago, she once clouded his mind. He often struggled to focus on work, and fought the urge to chase after her. But now, it was all gone. He wiped his cheeks with a shaky hand.

_Nothing ever means anything to you. _Bartimaeus's words had stung earlier. Now they were taunting. He gritted his teeth and slammed a fist against the floor. It was that damn demon. He must have done a trick on his mind, planted a seed of doubt. If it weren't for him, Nathaniel could be embracing Jane right now. Bartimaeus was constantly dancing in his mind. He couldn't even focus on being with Jane without thinking of him. For a brief moment, Nathaniel thought of going into the study room where a waiting Bartimaeus sat in a pentacle, waiting to be summoned at Prague. He fought back the urge to give him the Shriveling Fire, letting out all of his pent-up emotions.

He sighed. It would do no good and it wouldn't be fair. Nathaniel rubbed his sore eyes, exhaustion weighing down on his muscles. _Nothing ever means anything to you._ Bartimaeus's stinging words weighed heavily on his mind.

"That's not true," he said with a raw voice to no one in particular.


	8. Teens

_Bartimaeus_

From within the pentacle, the Egyptian boy materialized and looked around the room. I paid no attention to Nathaniel who stood in another pentacle across from me. I purposely avoided looking into his direction and scanned the room. Yup, it was Prague, all right. The air was chokingly depressing; and the room was dimly lit by a small candle on a frail nightstand that stood next to a bed with questionable stains. The blue-green wallpaper was peeling off in a manner that reminded me of a snake shedding its skin, and the floorboards creaked and moaned under our feet. Nothing has changed since we last visited.

Nathaniel mumbled the last few protective spells around him and stepped out of his pentacle. He snapped his fingers at me.

"Oi, Bartimaeus. You can step out of the pentacle now."

I finally looked at him. And boy, am I glad I did. I snickered. Over his long sleeve shirt, he wore a ridiculous yellow vest, buttoned together on the front with a single green button. His brown, wide-flaring pants stopped just short of his knees; long, white socks continued where the pants stopped at. His shoes were simple brown leather that had seen some better days. On top of it all, a horrid green cape hung from his shoulders.

"What the hell are you wearing?" I sneered. "You look like you're ready to march into the Shire with the rest of the hobbits."

Nathaniel scowled. "It's called a _disguise_. Something you should be all too familiar and knowledgeable in considering you're a demon. I'm starting to think your intelligence is withering away by the prolonged summoning."

"Okay, ouch. What the hell has gotten into you? Why the snark, kid?"

He leaned against the bed frame, arms crossed. "I guess I have time to list the reasons –"

"_A list_!?" I said exasperated. I put my hands on my hips. "I was only gone for 24 hours! We were just fine before that."

"Oh, we _were_? I seem to remember an argument and your cruel comment!"

My suspicions were confirmed. I had hurt his feelings. I didn't think he would stew in it though. I mean, look at me, I was able to let that go.

I threw my hands up in an apologetic manner. "Okay, okay. I didn't realize that I had hurt you. I'll be the bigger person and apologize. I'm sorry that –"

Nathaniel stomped his foot. "No, not yet! I'm not done being angry at you. I could be having sex with Jane right now!"

I was stumped. Even after all these years, the kid had always somehow found a way to utterly shock me out of sheer ridiculousness.

"Uhh, I don't follow."

Nathaniel stammered, his lips fumbling to form the right words. "J- just get out of my head, Bartimaeus! You and your comments. I don't need to hear you making stupid and hurtful comments. With you on my mind when I'm trying to work or think makes me sick, you demon." The word demon dripped with disgust.

This was the second time he used that damn word at my general direction. Here I was, trying to be the adult and apologize. And what do I get? Hate and anger thrown right at me.

"Well, good news, chump!" I snarled. "You can dismiss me right now. If you're _soo_ tired of me, let me go. Let me and my 'withering intelligence' go back to the Other Place so I can never see you and your ridiculous outfit again and all memories of _moi _canfade away from your tiny brain. Comments and all."

"No, because I need you!"

I turned my back to him. "Nope. Can't hear you."

"Bartimaeus, face me right now! You're the only one that I trust enough to not screw this mission up. We need to talk about our next step."

I let out a hollow laugh. "In what way do you need _me_ that another poor capable djinn can't do?"

"In every way."

His words echoed throughout the room, followed by an awkward silence. I hadn't realized we were shouting. I could feel his anger and his frustration in his voice. I didn't have to face him to know that he was on the verge of losing his composure. I stayed quiet, thinking of what to say. In most of our arguments, it always ends the same. Petty insults and clever comebacks being thrown back and forth until someone gives up and storms off. It felt different this time. His words were beginning to bug me; it was gnawing its way into me, making me feel almost guilty. I angrily resisted the temptation.

I heard him shift and sigh. "Can you please turn around and look at me?"

He sounded tired. I turned, keeping my gaze from meeting his.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled guiltily. "I shouldn't have insulted your intelligence and I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry too. I should have kept my comments to myself. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's like that saying: if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."

All's well that ends well. I finally looked at him. He was still wearing that hideous outfit.

"So, what are your plans with… this?" I gestured at his clothes.

He perked up. "We're going to act like the citizens of Prague. Walk among the people, mingle with the commoners, get them to trust us and find any mention of the Resistance or rebellion or war."

I gave the Egyptian boy a new outfit: distressed jeans, a white t-shirt and a red bomber jacket. I gestured at my clothes. "See this outfit? No, don't scowl at me. _This_ is a good disguise. What you're wearing will make you stick out. It's the opposite of a good disguise. Plus, you look stupid."

Nathaniel huffed and puffed, but he listened. From his luggage, he pulled out khaki slacks and a black buttoned up shirt.

I grimaced. "Don't you have jeans?"

He threw an angry glance at me; I shrugged submissively. With his clothes, he entered what I assumed to be the bathroom and shut the door. I waited for a moment. On one side of the room, a small square window showed the view of the plaza. I recognized the area; we were at Old Town Square. Nice fond memories of me escaping from the military while I destroyed half the building here popped up in my head. Those were the good old days. I walked towards the window and peered out. The sun was up high, peeking from the sheets of dark clouds that threatened to take over the sky. People, young and old, all red faced from the cold, were scuttering around the plaza like ants.

I heard the bathroom door open from behind. I glanced back and face palmed.

"Nathaniel, please get rid of that cape."

He stuck out his chin, his chest puffing out as if attempting to look like a certain super hero wearing red speedos. "No, I like it."

"I'm not going to be seen with you. You're an embarrassment."

"I don't care. Let's go." He said sharply.

I groaned. Whether I liked it or not, I had to follow this idiot.

-o0o0o0o-

Nathaniel and I sat on a white-clothed table outside a small café. He was busily having his afternoon snack of coffee and biscuits while I scanned the area for any dangers. I looked at every passing face I could see; the passing old gentleman with a cane, the heavily pregnant woman pushing a stroller, a child running across the plaza. I had to make sure we weren't going to be recognized. Despite the cold, people were still walking about. Warm steam puffed out of their mouth against the cold air as they breath, their noses red and runny. I looked at Nathaniel wondering how the cold was affecting him. He wasn't doing so well. Because he ditched the coat for his stupid cape, he was shivering. He was wrapped within the cape, hot coffee in his hands. His teeth chattered as he lifted the cup to his lips.

I wearily shrugged. Not much you can do with someone as stubborn as him. Far off in the distance, I spotted a group of kids, about a few years younger than Nathaniel. I lightly kicked him from underneath the table and gestured at the group of kids with a subtle nod.

"Do you think those kids will have any information?"

He stole a glance behind him, following my gaze. He leaned towards me, whispering.

"If they did, how would I introduce myself and have them trust me? They're babies, and I'm an adult. They'll think I'm creepy. Can't you change your form and do it for me?"

I thought about it, rubbing my chin. "I could… But I wouldn't really know what to say. I can't relate to them. Also, you're not an adult, you're a child."

He scoffed into his cup. Suddenly, I felt a kick on my leg. He nodded towards my left, gesturing to glance. I followed his gaze and found exactly what he was looking at. A group of three teens stood nearby, ordering pretzels from a pretzel-stand. Two boys and a girl. They looked to be around Nathaniel's age. If I had full confidence that Nathaniel was a normal teenage boy, I would let him waltz into their small circle and have his way. Unfortunately, he was anything but. I don't even think Nathaniel would be able to relate with any one them. I fiddled my thumbs, thinking.

"What do you think?" He said, leaning towards me in a conspirator manner. "Do you think they'll know something?"

"Possibly. Teenagers have a knack for finding any kind of rebellion. It's all the angst and stuff."

Nathaniel paid the bill, taking one last sip of his coffee. As he stood, the cape swirled about him in an overextravagant way.

"Do you hear that?" I said.

"What?" He hesitated, listening intently.

"That sound." I paused for a dramatic effect. "It's the sound of my remaining dignity withering away as I stand next to you with the disgusting cloth."

The look on his face could curdle milk. Good thing I'm not milk. I flicked a crumb of a biscuit. With extreme precision, the crumb flew into the air and landed on his face. He yelped and rubbed his cheek.

"Will you _stop that!?_"

The couple sitting next to us looked over, giving Nathaniel a wary glance. He was fuming now. I suppressed a snicker.

"Okay, go talk to them." I said, gesturing towards the three teens.

Anger forgotten and mission remembered, he gazed at the teens. His bit his lips, brows furrowing. Grabbing his cape to wrap himself from the cold, he shifted but then paused. I sensed hesitancy.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Can you go talk to them first and then introduce me?"

I blinked. "What? Why?"

"I don't know what to say," he mumbled.

This was Nathaniel speaking. The pompous John Mandrake would have strolled towards the teens with fake grotesque swagger and somehow offend everyone near his vicinity. He would undoubtedly brag about his high position in the government, rubbing elbows with the Prime Minister, and remind a commoner or two on how weak they were. That's what magicians were trained to do. At least, the magicians in London do. But, considering we were in disguise and alone far from London, he left John Mandrake. Standing before me was the boy I met years ago. Nathaniel was just a kid using a cape as a blanket, too afraid to talk to people his own age. I almost felt bad. Almost.

With a great sense of dread, I walked towards the teens. Nathaniel stayed back, watching from the table at the café. One of the teens noticed me; he was tall, lean kid with a face riddled with acne, which he tried to hide with long, stringy black hair. He elbowed the short, chubby girl with blonde hair beside him, and she turned to look at me. As with all teens, the very first thing they do when meeting people is judge. I could feel their judgmental pairs of eyes penetrating me, looking for any kind of flaw. I had no worries though. I didn't have any. As I stopped in front of them, the third teen, a boy with a face full of freckles, finally noticed me.

"What do you want?" said the girl in Czech, frowning.

I gave them a winning smile. "I'm not from around here, so I was hoping if you guys knew where someone like me can go out to have some fun?" I winked, silently hoping they would get the subtle hint. The tall boy understood perfectly.

"Depends on what kind of fun," he said, smirking. "We know about just about every place. I'm Alec, by the way." He reached a hand out; I shook it.

"I'm Ptolemy."

"What's a foreign like you doing out here, anyways?" The freckled face boy asked.

The girl elbowed him. "Don't be rude. You can't just ask why they're here."

I shrugged. "No, no. It's a fair question. Not everyday you see an Egyptian boy walking around, right? I'm just visiting. Thought I get to see all the wonders of the world."

The tall teen – Alec – leaned back, arms crossed. "And what wonder is in Prague?"

"Drugs and booze."

The three teens laughed; I laughed along. Teenagers never change. Just give them a little nudge or recognition on rebellion, and they gobble it all up like it's Thanksgiving dinner. Even Ptolemy rebelled a bit. That was an annoying period of my life, but something I'll cherish forever.

"I actually have a friend who's traveling with me." I said. The teens were interested in me now. All I had to do was introduce Nathaniel, and get them talking. The faster we got them talking, the better. I waved Nathaniel over; he waved back and made his way towards me, cape and all.

"This is my friend – uh – Nathan." I said as Nathaniel stepped next to me. He smiled timidly, giving a small wave to the three teens. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He was hopeless. The freckled face boy bent down to look at Nathaniel's cape.

"Is… is that a cape?"

Uh oh. Nathaniel hesitated, warily nodding.

"What!? That is so _cool. _Where are you from? Is that British accent, I hear? I think we should be using capes again, don't you think Anna?" The freckled face boy was now prowling around Nathaniel, reaching and touching the cape. Nathaniel was now beaming, a smile plastered on his face. He flashed a smug look towards me; I blew my cheeks out. Whatever. The three teens were now hovering over Nathaniel, making comments on how capes died out in the first place and how it should be brought back. Every once in awhile, Nathaniel would respond to them, and they would listen to him, completely engrossed in his response and all of his stories.

Fifteen minutes have passed; conversations between the four flowed. Nathaniel seemed to have forgotten the cold. He was no longer shivering; instead, he was cheerfully telling all kinds of made up stories about his made-up life and his expansive travels all around the world. Finally, after much chit-chat, the girl elbowed herself to the front and made the perfect proposal.

"Hey, about we meet you boys later tonight at the nightclub that's around the corner?"

Nathaniel's smile faltered.

"Yes," I answered. "We would _love _that."

The teens started giggling, talking with one another. From the corner of my eye, I could see Nathaniel glancing up at me, worry etched on his face. I threw a lazy arm over his shoulder and pulled him in.

"Time for you to get a taste of teen-hood, Nat."


	9. JuicePop

_Bartimaeus_

This was the plan: We enter Prague undetected with false identities and hide in disguises. After that, we blend in with the common folk, mingle our way around, and get to know any suspicious looking people. With this plan, we hope to find someone that might know anything about seeking revenge and any underground rebellion. The plan was solid and simple enough. Except, there was a simple problem that Nathaniel didn't consider. He had to _become_ one them, meaning he must hang out with them, do all their activities, and offer them company for whatever they liked. With the way Nathaniel was huffing and puffing and stomping, you could tell that he wasn't particularly keen on going to a nightclub. That, and the constant complaining.

"Why would you agree to _that, _Bartimaeus?" He said for the hundredth time. "You know that I don't drink! This is most inappropriate and vile. I refuse to step into such disgusting place and have a single drop of liquor. I can't believe you've agreed to this. I'm backing out. We'll find someone else. Those children - the one we saw earlier today – they'll know something! I'll talk to them. Yes."

I was leaning against the bedroom's door frame, casually watching him throw his little tantrum.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am sixteen!" He shouted, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't drink that kind of stuff."

"Sure, you can. Kids your age do it all the time."

He shook his head and paced around the room. He continued muttering to himself about the legality and the health complications, his hands gesturing this way and that. Never thought alcohol would get him this frazzled.

I sighed. "Okay, how about this: all you have to do is take one or two sips. You can leave the rest to me. You don't have to drink that much. Just give them an illusion you're drinking."

He stopped his pacing, his fingers rubbing his chin. "Yes..." he muttered. "Yes. That sounds good…"

I clapped my hands together. "Let's talk plans now." I was eager to get this mission over with. I needed to go back home.

After much back and forth, Nathaniel and I hashed out a poorly cut plan that we could safely say we agreed on. At the party, I would take the lead. Become fast friends with the three teens, hopefully meet more people, and we would partake in any activities. Once we felt we were comfortable, Nathaniel would take the lead. His job was to drop subtle hints on any topics with magicians and rebellions. I would keep on the look-out for anything that seems suspicious. If anyone takes the bait, we latch onto them. We learn more, get inside the rebellion and find Hopkins. Sounds easy enough. Except Nathaniel and I disagree on when we should start asking about the rebellion. I would like to take my time; perhaps wait for the next time the kids invite us to another club. It seems less suspicious and more natural. Nathaniel was a little too eager on getting as much information in as little time as possible though. I'm worried that this would make us stick out.

While we prepared ourselves for the long, adventurous night, dusk crept up on us. Before we knew it, it was time. It had began to drizzle slightly, dampening Nathaniel's already sour mood. He ditched his cape and wore his large coat to keep away from the chill. It was a long, quiet walk to the nightclub. Neither of us spoke, our thoughts far away. My essence was aching; I longed to change forms to get some temporary relief. It's unfortunate I'd have to wait until we get back to London, otherwise I'd attract unwanted attention.

The nightclub stood tall and wide. Every inch of the front of the building's grimy brick walls were covered in fading posters of the past live music events. The large sign's neon lights flashed obnoxiously, the colored lights reflecting off the puddles. Somewhere from within the building, loud music could be heard over the collective sounds of chattering people. From the front entrance, a half-dressed girl stumbled out in a stupor, giggling and talking incoherently. She landed on the wet pavement staring up at the night sky. Nathaniel wrinkled his nose.

"She is humiliating herself."

I shrugged. "She's having more fun than you." I shoved him forward lightly towards the front entrance.

He carefully stepped over the girl. I nudged her to the side with a boot. She giggled and rolled over, her clothes getting soaked from the rain.

Standing near the front door, a large man stood. His broad shoulders was large enough to block the front entrance as Nathaniel stepped towards it.

"I'm going to need to see your identification. You look too young."

Nathaniel stammered a bit, patting down at his pants for a non-existent ID. I was going to act when a small voice to my left called out.

"It's - okay Dominik. Th-they're my – friends!" The sprawling girl hiccupped and giggled. She rolled back onto her back, her dazed eyes looking into mine. "You have nice eyes. And boots."

The large man – Dominik – looked between Nathaniel and I. After a moment, he finally nodded and gestured us to enter. Nathaniel hesitated but I pushed him forward.

In an instant, the music enveloped us all. I could feel the bass reverberating within me, a rhythmic beating stimulating a fast heart-beat. Strobe lights flashed above; people were moving in and out within the dancing crowd at the center. To my amusement, Nathaniel looked lost. Mouth open, he gazed at his surrounding. Everywhere he looked, people danced and drank. The environment was buzzing with excitement and care-free joy; laughter and an occasional shout could sometimes be heard over the loud music.

I walked forward, grabbing a hold of Nathaniel's hand. I pushed my way towards the center of the dancing crowd. Nathaniel stumbled over his feet and received a couple of elbows to the head a couple of times but he kept his pace with me. Once I felt that we were in the thick of it, I turned to him and bent close to his ear to shout over the music.

"Stay here. I'm going to find those three kids. Act natural and just dance."

By the look of his face, you would think I asked him to go mingle with the homeless.

"No!" He shouted. "I want to stay with you. I'll help you look for them."

Someone behind him stumbled and knocked into us. A man to my right grunted. The crowd of people were closing in around us, making it difficult to have a conversation. I shook my head and pulled him closer. I felt himself tense up. "Just stay here. That way I know you're safe. There's lots of people here so you'll blend in with the crowd perfectly."

I pulled back and turned, ready to go search for the three teens. I felt someone grab my arm; Nathaniel pulled me back next to him.

"No!" He shouted again. "I feel safe when I'm with you!"

He glanced over my shoulder and his face blanked. I wrenched my arm free and felt someone tap behind my shoulder.

"I didn't know you guys were a couple!" The tall teen named Alec shouted over the music, sneering at us.

"W-we're not!" Nathaniel stammered, forcing a fake laugh.

"Where's everyone else at?" I asked.

Alec pointed at a far corner of the room. "They're over there waiting for us. They got us a booth to sit. Follow me."

Squeezing through sweating dancing people proved to be a task. I kept my pace with Alec, weaving in and out of the stream of moving bodies. Nathaniel had a tight grip on my arm, careful to not stumble over my legs. The three of us finally broke free from the crowd and made our way towards the red leathered-booth.

The girl, Anne sat next to the freckled face teen. She spotted us and called out.

"Hey boys! You made it. Sick place, huh?"

Sticking to the plan, I took the lead. I hopped into the booth, Nathaniel following my lead.

"I could get used to this." I said, flashing a smile towards her. She giggled, twirling her a strand of her blonde hair with her finger.

The freckled face teen leaned over the table. "I forgot to introduce myself earlier. My name is Stefan."

Alec plopped down next Anne. "So, Ptolemy and Nathan, you guys want to try these?"

From his coat pocket, he pulled out a small bag. The bag contained several small white pills. _Fuck. _Nathaniel cleared his throat but I could sense him tensing up. I made sure my smile didn't waver.

"What are they?" I asked.

Stefan leaned forward, his voice straining to be louder than the blasting music. "They're new in the streets. They're called JuicePop. One pop of them, and you'll feel like you've drank yourself to a blackout. They're supposed to stimulate drunkenness but without the alcohol."

Alec pulled two of the white pills and slid them across the table, looking at Nathaniel and I expectantly. Stefan and Anne urged us on to take the pills. I leaned back against the seat.

"I can't," I said. "I'm driving and I gotta keep an eye on Nathan here."

Alec shrugged. "You could always order a taxi. But whatever. What about you Nathan?"

Nathaniel reached across the table and fingered the pill nervously. Stealing a quick glance at me, he smiled faintly at the three teens. With a swift movement, he threw his head back, popping the pill into his mouth and swallowed it. Our table erupted in cheers and laughter. Stefan smacked the table happily, encouraging Nathaniel to take another. Nathaniel declined. Without any hesitation, Stefan and Anne did the same, taking two pills each. There was more cheers and laughter. From underneath the table, I felt Nathaniel tap my leg. I bent down towards him.

"Change of plan," he whispered. "You're gonna have to do everything. I don't think I'll be able to handle it."

I nodded. I'm not going to lie, I felt a bit guilty. He was out of his element, and he was freaking out over the prospect of drinking alcohol. And here he was taking drugs from kids we don't necessarily trust. I honestly felt like I just failed at protecting Nathaniel. But this was the mission. He wanted to blend in, and we were for the time being. I have to give him props though. The kid is really dedicated to his missions. For the next few hours, I kept the conversation flowing. I pulled out every ice breaker I could think of, and every interesting topics that might keep a couple of drunk (or drugged?) teens happy. The dancing in the room never stopped and the music kept going on, a constant rhythmic beat blasting all around us.

As time went on, I kept an eye on Nathaniel. His demeanor began to change. As he talked, his words began to slur. His cheeks had a rosy tint to them and his eyes sparkled with awe. Within the half hour since he's taken the pill, he was loose. His tense shoulder sagged and laughter bubbled from his lips at every lame joke that Alec told. It was strange seeing him relax like this. I don't think I ever recall him being this carefree. Every once in awhile, I would lean in and whisper if he was okay. He always nodded in a dreamy state, words tumbling ungracefully about something he just thought of. Stefan and Anne proved to be _much_ more physical and carefree. Within the hour, the two were wrapped up in each other's embrace in the corner of their booth, lips locked together and swapping spit. At one point, Stefan had his hands underneath her skirt.

Alec paid no attention. He kept his gaze at me.

"Where'd you say you were from?" He asked, a smile dancing on his lips.

"Egypt. Born and raised."

He nodded, his smile unwavering. To his right, Anne moaned out in pleasure and gripped Stefan's face with her free hand. Still, Alec kept his eyes on me. I looked out into the dancing crowd.

"Why don't you take a picture? I know I'm beautiful, but it's rude to stare."

Alec chuckled. "I'm just trying to figure you out. How do you know Nathan? Why is he with you? What's your relationship with him?"

"Well, uh, I actually met him in Egypt. And we became fast friends and we're just traveling together." What a terrible backstory.

Alec gestured towards the happy Nathaniel. He had his eyes closed, his head lolling side to side. "I just think how interesting it is to see you hovering over him like a worried mother hen. And I think I've seen you before."

I laughed half-heartedly. "Well, I'm a worrier. Can't help it. Speaking of which, if you don't stop your friends, they're about to get a rude and crying surprise in nine months."

At this point, Anne was on the table moaning, Stefan hunched over her. The table wobbled underneath their weight. Stefan was fumbling with his belts, his fingers sloppily struggling to unbuckle it. Alec silently cursed. With fumbling limbs, he attempted and struggled to separate the couple. Just as Alec finally got Stefan to slump back down into his seat, Nathaniel abruptly sat upright.

"Bartimaeus, I'm going to throw up."

I winced at my name and hastily shushed him as I took stole a quick glance at Alec. He was busy dealing with his friend who was now trying to crawl back on the table over Anne. He gave no indication that he was paying attention to us right now. I stood up from the booth, gently half carrying a sluggish Nathaniel out.

"We'll be right back," I said.

Alec threw a thumbs up and dismissed me.

Right. The bathroom. Where was it? Nathaniel leaned against me, his heavy weight slowing me down. I pulled him upright, and threw his arm over my shoulder. Walking into the dancing crowd was difficult already. Having someone leaning against you, legs stumbling and tripping, was almost impossible. I pulled him upright again and shouted over the blasting music into his ear.

"I need you to walk, Nat."

He muttered something but I didn't quite catch it. Uncoordinated legs attempted to walk when a tall woman bumped into me. My grip around Nathaniel lessened and he slumped down onto the ground. I growled out in frustration. He thought it was hilarious, apparently. He began to giggle as I pulled him back up.

"I-I'm going to throw up."

"No, not yet –"

He doubled over, his stomach content spilling out onto the floor. I unceremoniously dropped him to avoid nearly getting sprayed. I let out a curse when I realized he landed right on top of his own vomit.

"I have – I _have_ to talk to you Bart –"

"_Shhhhhh!_ Stop using my name! Here, let me pick you up and find a quiet bathroom, okay?"

He didn't protest and let me pull him right back up. The putrid stench of vomit and sweat reached my nose. The crowd were still closed in around us, heat and sweat radiating off the moving bodies. I pushed my way through and kept a close eye on Nathaniel who was now rambling incoherently. After much ducking and dragging and elbowing through the crowd, we finally broke through. In the far corner of the room, I spotted a door with a bathroom sign hanging above it. Next to the door, a line of people stood by, waiting for their turn. I groaned. Why do things have to be more difficult?

"Okay, Nat. I'm gonna count to three, okay? We're gonna barge into that bathroom before that big lady gets in, alright? _Yes_, we're cutting in line. I know that goes against your British moral code but we need to do this. I just need you to hold on to me. If I throw you, I'm sorry."

He mumbled, syllables clashing together to form gibberish. I took that as an agreement.

"One…. Two… And – THREE!"

I would like to say that things went gracefully. But it did not. As a person was exiting out of the bathroom, the large woman that was next in line was already preparing herself to enter. I _attempted_ to run. A bit difficult when you're half carrying someone with stumbling uncoordinated legs. Instead, I tripped. Gracefully, I might add. In a desperate attempt, I threw Nathaniel towards the bathroom. He collided with the big woman, and fell backwards. With all the characteristic of a rag-doll, his back slammed against the bathroom's door, forcing it to open, and he quickly fell in. I jumped back onto my feet and ran. The big woman was now towering over Nathaniel, who was sprawled on the floor next to the stained toilet. A large roar erupted from her lips and, with a meaty hand, grabbed Nathaniel by the collar of his shirt. I jumped and landed on her back, prompting her to drop him. I bunched up my fist into her hair and pulled. She shrieked; her arms flailing in a desperate attempt to hit me. I avoided her heavy punches and hopped off, rolling head over heels.

Nathaniel groaned from the floor, rubbing his head. "I don't feel good."

The big woman roared at me; I hopped back on my feet and rushed towards her. Using all my strength, I shoved her out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I locked it; her heavy fist began pounding against the door. The door shook with every blow. I could hear her scream and yell. I prayed the door could hold up. Keeping a cautious eye on the door, I rushed towards Nathaniel's side and propped him against the wall.

"We're in the bathroom right now. If you have to use it, do it now. The toilet is right next to you. No, to your right. Your right."

He vomited into toilet, nearly missing it. I kept the long strands of his hair away from his face as he emptied out his stomach. Finally, he threw his head back laughing. "You made pig lady angry."

"I would say she was more of a bull, but sure. Puke again if you need to, Nat. I don't know how strong that stuff was. You need to get it out of your system."

He shook his head and attempted to get up. I held him down.

"Bart, I have to talk to you," he mumbled.

"What is it? About the plan? Don't worry I got that down."

He giggled. "Bart. It sounds like fart."

"Charming."

"_No_\- no wait." He closed his eyes, and placed a hand on my arm. "I didn't mean that. Bart, I meant – um – "

I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and dabbed at his face, wiping off the rest of the vomit that dribbled on his chin. Behind me, the angry lady was now kicking the door. Somehow, her roaring was being drowned out by the music. Nathaniel slapped my hand away.

"Listen to me!" His eyes flashed with irritation briefly, but then softened. He leaned his head against the toilet. "I'm so dizzy. But – You said that—that nothing ever means anything to me. I take offense to that."

I rolled my eyes. "We've already talked about this. I already apologized." I grabbed a new wad of toilet paper and rushed towards the sink to wet it. He was sweating now. Might as well get his face cleaned up.

"You're not listening to me. Many things mean a lot to me."

I dabbed his face with the wet toilet paper. He scrunched up his nose, flinching away.

"Hold still, no its not pee. It's just water. Next time I talk to Jane, I'll let her know that you mean a lot to her. And if your ego had a face, I would tell it too."

"No, no. Not her, _you_. You mean a lot to me."

"If I did, you would be dismissing me instead of keeping me around for long periods of time."

He opened his eyes. He was still dazed, but somehow, he kept his eyes on me.

"I _do_ care about you," he started and paused to hiccup. "I just need you all the time. Jane is—" He waved his hand in the air in a dismissive manner. "She's _meh_. But you…"

I caught him take a quick glance at my lips. "Okay, conversation is over."

"Wait, Bart, I need to tell you how much you mean –"

"I think I know. Stop talking, Nathaniel."

He opened his mouth, but hesitated. The big woman was now slamming her entire weight against the door. I shouted through the door. "If you don't stop ramming the fucking door, I'm going to rip the shit out of you!"

There was a moment of quietness. But then a knock sounded.

"Knock again, bitch. Let's see what happens."

"Ptolemy! It's me, Alec."

"Oh."

I cracked the door open and peered out. Alec stood by, holding up an unconscious Anne. Stefan was nowhere to be seen. I looked around, searching for the big lady.

"She's gone. I had her kicked out," said Alec. "Listen, tomorrow, would you be willing to meet some of my other friends? They have this secret club and I feel like you and Nathan are worthy to check it out."

Nathaniel shouted gibberish from behind me.

"What kind of club is it?" I asked.

"How about I meet you by the pretzel stand tomorrow evening? I'll tell you everything then."

I nodded.

"Okay, see you and Nathan tomorrow, then."


	10. Hungover

_Nathaniel_

Upon waking up, the very first thing Nathaniel became aware of was the pounding of his head. He groaned, rubbing the sleep off his eyes. Carefully, he sat himself up. His entire body was sore and sluggish. Cracking open an eye, he looked around. He was back in the hotel room. He was sitting on his bed with a rough, itchy blanket tangled within his legs. The small window's curtains we're drawn to a close; a sliver of the morning's light peeking through. Groaning, he kicked off the blanket and sat at the edge of the bed.

What happened? Where was Bartimaeus?

He only had a few brief memory of last night's events. The last few things he remembered were listening to the conversation between Bartimaeus and Alec. The djinn was smiling and kept Alec entertained. After that, Nathaniel can only remember in flashes. Half of those flashes, he doubted were real. There was Anne on the table, half naked. There was also flashes of being carried by Bartimaeus and a large woman bearing down over him.

"Bartimaeus?" He croaked weakly. His throat and mouth was dry. Swallowing, he noted a sour taste in his mouth. He looked down at himself. His clothes were a mess. A stain covered the front of his clothes, and he reeked of vomit and sweat. Nathaniel gagged. This was absolutely humiliating. A member of the government covered in vomit after a night out with the commoners. He silently cursed at himself.

"Good, you're awake."

Nathaniel jumped and immediately winced in pain. Carefully, he turned his pounding head to his right.

"What happened?" He asked, licking his dry lips.

Bartimaeus strolled towards the window, thrusting the curtains to the side. A flood of light entered the room; Nathaniel cried out in pain and shut his eyes. He heard the djinn snicker.

"Well, you're hungover. Here, I brought water. Drink it. After that, go take a shower, brush your teeth and put on fresh new clothes. I'll have food ready by the time you're done."

Shielding his eyes from the assaulting light with a hand, Nathaniel took a hold of the glass cup, and eagerly gulped down the water.

"What happened?" He asked again.

"A lot has happened. Alec and I started talking. I felt that he was onto us or something. I dunno, something felt off. But then you got sick, and it was a mess getting you into a bathroom. Had to wrestle someone, you puked on yourself, and then started blathering nonsense. In the end, Alec came and invited us to meet with him this evening to talk to us about some 'secret club'."

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "Secret club? Like the Resistance?"

"Not sure. He said we we're gonna meet more of his friends. Apparently, we're worthy enough. Whatever that means."

With great care, Nathaniel placed his emptied cup aside and hopped off the side of the bed. A pain shot up his side. "Why am I so _sore_?"

"Uhh, probably because I threw you at this giant bull of a lady. I said sorry beforehand."

Nathaniel threw a sour but pained glance at the djinn's direction. He smiled apologetically. Sore and hungover. This was no way to go into a mission. With each and every dizzying step, Nathaniel shuffled himself into the bathroom. Discarding his soiled clothes, he stepped under the tepid water that spluttered weakly from the shower head. On any normal day, Nathaniel would disprove of such shower and would claim that a dip in the pool is a much better alternative. But, given the circumstances, he embraced it. Washing away the sweat and grime, Nathaniel allowed himself to think. A shower was the only place a person was truly isolated. It was the perfect place to think.

He poked at the forming bruises on his side and winced. Tonight, they were going to meet up with Alec again to talk about some "secret club". Would the Resistance be considered a club to commoners? Nathaniel placed his head underneath the running shower, feeling the water calming his pounding head. He stretched his sore muscles, groaning as he did so. If this secret club was a Resistance movement, everything would be smooth from then on out. Bartimaeus had mentioned Alec asking invasive questions while he was out. Was that something that he needed to worry about?

A gentle knock sounded on the door.

"When you're done, I've left clean clothes and food by the door. Don't step on them. It's hot coffee and a brioche."

_-o0o0o0o0o0o-_

Clean and fed, Nathaniel felt much better. Although his head still swam dizzily, he found that the pounding had subsided and his sore muscles were now tolerable to move. Bartimaeus had spent the rest of the morning peering out the small window while Nathaniel sat in a small desk, scribbling down notes of his plan, past events, and evidence. It was best to have things written down in case they missed something later on.

"I'm bored," Bartimaeus said, sighing.

"So you've said for the hundredth time." Nathaniel didn't bother looking up from his notes, his pen moving in a scribbling fashion.

"Can we at least explore the city?"

"And risk getting recognized and caught? No. You know better than that."

The djinn stepped away from the window, stopping in front of the scribbling magician. With a defeated sigh, Nathaniel looked up from his notes to face Bartimaeus.

"Yes?"

"You said some weird shit last night. I want to know if you really meant it or if you were just drugged out of your mind."

Setting his pen down, Nathaniel cleared his throat. "What kind of weird stuff?"

"You don't remember anything?" Bartimaeus cocked his head to the side, one hand on his hip.

"Not much, truthfully."

Bartimaeus leaned forward, propping his chin with his elbow on the small desk. Nathaniel swallowed and leaned back against his chair, keeping a good distance between him and the djinn.

"What's wrong with Jane?" The djinn asked.

"What?"

"Why don't you like her? You said she was, in your own drugged out words, 'meh'." He was watching him intently now.

Nathaniel fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, feeling it suddenly constricting his neck. _What did I say last night?_

"Um, I like her. I just don't think she's – uh - partner material. Why do you care so much? What did I say?"

"Do you want to kiss me?"

He paused, his fidgety hands frozen. Nathaniel looked into the djinn's golden eyes. It reminded him of swirling honey. Despite the sweetness appearance, his eyes were cold and calculating. Bartimaeus was testing him. Blinking away, Nathaniel stood up from the desk, notes forgotten.

"No, I don't need that anymore. Jane said I was –"

"That you were good. No need to repeat yourself."

"Why did you ask then?"

The djinn straightened his back. Turning from Nathaniel, he shrugged his shoulders as he walked back to the small window. Annoyance crept up on Nathaniel.

"Bartimaeus, what did I say last night?"

"That I meant a lot to you, and Jane was nothing. Is that true?" The djinn spoke without tearing his eyes from the window. His voice was steady with no indication of emotion. Nathaniel struggled to answer, his mind racing for the best answer.

"I – uh – I respect you enough," he stammered. "More than a magician ought to. You're valuable so you have lots of value to me. Um, I trust you."

Bartimaeus hummed disapprovingly. "Huh. Respect me enough. Even after all this time, you still see me as a tool that you can use freely. And here I was thinking this was Nathaniel speaking, not the cold John Mandrake."

Nathaniel bit the inside of his cheeks. "I only meant that I see you as a person and not a –"

"Demon?"

"Spirit."

Silence enveloped the room. Nathaniel stood awkwardly, watching the djinn from across the room. The djinn was calmly peering out the window, a sullen look on his face. It reminded him of the quiet intimate moment he had with Bartimaeus bathed in the moonlight in his study room. It seemed so long ago. And yet, it was only last week. Everything was much simpler then. Or so he told himself. After a few minutes of silence, Bartimaeus suddenly stirred.

"Well, can we go out and get some lunch at least? I'm tired of being cooped up."

"Something is missing with Jane."

Bartimaeus turned, eyes brows arched. "Huh?"

"Whenever Jane and I kiss, I don't really feel what I feel with you. I think she's beautiful and smart, but she offers nothing else to me. Is that normal? Is that what it feels like to love someone? I always imagined it was something much more intense like in the movies."

Nathaniel didn't really understood why he was rambling now. It was as if the floodgate to his brain had opened. Everything poured freely out of his mouth. Words turned into sentences, and sentences turned into rants. Without realizing, he began pacing around the room. The djinn stood still, quietly listening to the ranting magician. Finally, after several minutes of Nathaniel spewing out whatever came to mind, Bartimaeus held up a hand. Nathaniel stopped in his tracks, the words stuck in his throat.

"Nat, I'm not your therapist or your matchmaker. But it sounds like you're not compatible with Jane."

"But why? Why don't I feel what I feel with you? Is it her or is it me? It _must_ be her!" Nathaniel threw himself against the chair by the desk. He ran his fingers through his hair, one leg bouncing on the balls of his feet in agitation.

"Hold up, back up." Bartimaeus shifted from foot to the other, gesticulating wildly. "What do you mean what you feel with me?"

Nathaniel drooped his head, avoiding Bartimaeus gaze. "I thought – I mean, that feeling when we kiss. Y-you don't feel that? Isn't that what you're supposed to feel? I thought it was normal…"

Bartimaeus gestured impatiently. "What _feeling_, Nathaniel?"

He lifted his shoulder in a half shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it. It just – it just feels good."

The djinn paused, tense. His eyes were cold, searching Nathaniel's face. Nathaniel shrank underneath his gaze. Slowly and without sound, Bartimaeus loomed closer to Nathaniel. Nathaniel sat upright in his chair, becoming all too aware of how close the djinn was.

"Nathaniel, I'm going to do something out of my free will right now. I need to see something. Don't freak out or yell or anything. I just need to see something."

He nodded, eyes looking everywhere but the djinn standing in front of him. Bartimaeus bent down, his face inching closer to his. Nathaniel swallowed, still aware of the djinn watching his every movement. He couldn't help but steal small glances at the djinn's lips. He could smell the sweet fragrance of foreign spices. With great effort, Nathaniel lifted his gaze towards Bartimaeus. Golden eyes met with his. Nathaniel felt himself tremble underneath his gaze, his breath quickening in pace.

Bartimaeus closed the gap; his experienced lips pressing against Nathaniel's nervous lips. The djinn deepened the kiss, working his mouth against the other. Nathaniel let out a squeak; his hands hovering at his sides awkwardly. Bartimaeus cupped Nathaniel's face, one hand snaking behind his neck. Without realizing, Nathaniel was tugging Bartimaeus's shirt, pulling him closer. Nathaniel felt the djinn's tongue brush against his lips; a current surged throughout his body. He gasped into the kiss, the heat rising into his cheeks. Seeking more, Nathaniel returned the favor. He wanted more, he needed more. He hungrily pushed back, moaning as his tongue brushed against the djinn's. Nathaniel now had his arms around Bartimaeus's neck, pulling him down, deepening the kiss further. He felt quick hands fall from his face; one hand pressed against his chest, the other fumbling with his belt. Nathaniel shifted in his seat, moaning into the hot and wet kiss. The metal clinks of the belt could be heard as it came undone. Then the hand stopped moving.

Bartimaeus pulled away abruptly. Wild-eyed, he wiped his lips. Nathaniel opened his eyes, dazed.

"_Shit_. Fuck. No."

The djinn raked his hand through his hair, his breathing quickening.

"W-what?"

Bartimaeus didn't answer. Concerned, Nathaniel reached out, touching his arm; the djinn wrenched his arm away.

"No, don't touch me," he said. "I need to go."

Confused, Nathaniel shifted in his seat. He had lost control during the kiss, that was evident enough. His face felt hot.

"Where will you go?" He stammered.

"Away from you."

A sinking feeling came down upon him. Nathaniel clenched his jaws; his eyes brimming with hot tears that threatened to pour out. He screwed his eyes shut, forcing the tears down. Keeping his eyes shut, he heard the djinn walk away, slamming the door shut. His lips quivered. Angrily, he gripped the edge of his seat, his knuckles turning white. Tears stung his eyes. _Why am I crying?_


	11. Alone

_Nathaniel_

The bleeding sun was setting fading off in the horizon. The wind picked up, the biting cold piercing into Nathaniel's skin. He wrapped his coat tighter against him, seeking what little warmth he had left. He stood next to the now abandoned pretzel-stand. Shops around the square were now closing and commoners were scurrying out with their last minute purchases. The plaza was almost empty now. Nathaniel tapped his foot impatiently. Bartimaeus hadn't returned yet. He had hoped the djinn hadn't abandoned him and the mission in Prague. He could technically summon him but the action of doing so almost felt wrong. Besides, he didn't think he could focus enough for the incantation.

Moments after Bartimaeus's abrupt depart, Nathaniel had spent the rest of the day fighting back tears and composing himself. His emotions hung heavy like a dark cloud in his mind, and his heart dropped as he recalled the event over and over. He didn't truly understand what had happened; his mind kept drifting off back to the intimate moment before the heartache. It took some time before Nathaniel could finally focus on the mission. He had washed his face, hoping its cool water could wash away his problems. It didn't, but the cold did distract him for some time.

Now, standing alone by the pretzel-stand, Nathaniel felt exposed and vulnerable. It shouldn't be long before Alec showed up. Or maybe, even hopefully, Bartimaeus. Just when the stars were beginning to peek through the vast, empty sky, a voice called out to him.

"Hello, Nathan. Where's Ptolemy?"

Alec was casually leaning against the pretzel-stand, a small smirk. His dark stringy hair moved against the bitter wind. He wore a black coat that reached down to his knees.

"He had some things to do," said Nathaniel with a voice he hoped sounded relaxed. "He'll be here soon. He'll call me when he's ready."

Alec slowly nodded but said nothing. He shrugged. Turning on his heels, Alec waved Nathaniel over, gesturing to follow him. Nathaniel caught up to him and fell into step beside him.

"Where are we going?" Nathaniel asked.

Alec flashed a smile. "You'll see."

As they walked, Nathaniel uneasiness grew. The openness of the plaza disappeared, tight narrow alleyways replacing it. They slinked together down an alley, turning left and right. Deeper and deeper they walked down the pathway. Their footsteps echoed against the decaying walls and several large rodents scurried out into the darkness. During the walk, Nathaniel kept himself preoccupied by memorizing each twist and turns. Alec bounced with every step, whistling a happy tune that clashed with the dreary atmosphere. The echo of the whistling tune gave it a haunting sound which made the hair in the back of Nathaniel's neck rise. Just when Nathaniel felt he had enough of the dark, Alec trotted over to an old door of a small bricked building and knocked. The knock echoed from within. Scuffling could be heard, and then the door creaked open. Looking over Alec's shoulder, Nathaniel glimpsed a thin woman. Her dark eyes were sunken and her long, stringy auburn hair were plastered against her sweaty forehead.

Nathaniel instantly recoiled at the high stench that drifted from within the building.

"Euch! What's the smell?"

Looking past Alec, the thin woman's eyes shot towards Nathaniel.

Alec nodded at the thin woman. "Hello, Em. This is Nathan, the one I told you about. Is everything ready?"

Em licked her lips nervously, glancing back at Alec. She kept herself hidden behind the door, her white fingers clutching the edge of the door tightly as if to prevent anyone from entering. She dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. Nathaniel strained to listen.

"Are you sure? We can't afford to screw things up right now."

"I'm sure. Can we come in now?"

The thin woman eyed Nathaniel one last time before opening the door. As the door opened, the stench became stronger. Nathaniel fought the urge to gag and cursed. Entering the building, Nathaniel silently wished for Bartimaeus's company.

A dim light struggled against the heavy, dark smog that hung in the ceiling to reveal a small, shabby room. The walls were stripped free from wallpapers revealing dark rotting wood. In some parts of the room the carpet was stained. There was no window and furniture. Only a large, metal table with intricate glassware and bottles sat in the center of the room. One of end of the table, a pot sat on a burner, the liquid bubbling vigorously. A young boy could be seen stirring the pot, his thin hair pressed against his head.

Alec hopped onto the metal table, the glassware clinked together dangerously.

"This," Alec gestured at the room, ignoring the young boy's protest. "All this is where the magic happens. This is where we make JuicePops." He plucked up a vial from the table and inspected the clear liquid within. "See this? Viktor here can churn a couple gallons of these liquids in a few days. After that, he turns them into pills like the one you're familiar with. We only need an ounce to make one pill. The production on this stuff is amazing."

Nathaniel had never felt so out of place. He briefly wondered if all the commoners in London were partaking in the same activities.

"So, you make and sell drugs?"

"I take it you've never done this before?" Alec asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Behind him, Nathaniel heard Em suck in a sharp breath "Are you saying that you've picked someone with _no experience?"_

Alec waved a dismissive hand. "It'll be _fine_, Em. I have everything exactly as I want it."

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "Um, what exactly is going on? Am I doing something?"

Alec fingered the vial, watching the content swirl.

"Yes, actually. It's a shame your friend can't be here. I would have like if you two went together with this small mission."

"A mission?"

"Everyone here has job. You've already met Em. She's the seller. Don is out right now but he's the smuggler. He's currently importing JuicePops into London as we speak. You've seen Viktor, the kid behind me with the pot. He makes the stuff."

"What about you? What do you do?"

"I'm the messenger. I do the planning and the organizing and I work for someone else. You'll meet him soon enough. Now, your mission. How comfortable are you with magicians?"

Nathaniel tensed up; he felt his heartbeat quicken. "I'm comfortable enough, why?"

"Any experience?" Alec smiled lazily, an eyebrow raised in an amusing manner.

Nathaniel glanced around room, acutely aware of the eyes on him. In contrast to Alec's cool demeanor, Viktor was cold. He never stopped stirring, even as he silently glared at Nathaniel. Em was now pacing back and forth across the room talking to herself in frantic whispers. She glanced at Nathaniel, and silently shook her hood muttering a few curse words. Everyone but Alec were doubting him, he could sense that well enough. However, Alec seemed to be testing him. The smile showed indifference, but his eyes were cold and calculating. They were watching his every move. Nathaniel swallowed, carefully choosing his words.

"I have spent some time talking with them during my travels. I know how they talk and what they like. I believe Ptolemy has more experience than me, but I can manage myself around them."

Alec's smile never faltered but his eyes shone. Hopping off the table, he drew a small paper bag from his coat's pocket. He tossed it towards Nathaniel.

"That bag – open it. It's got JuicePops. Worth about 23,000 Czech Koruna. A couple of magicians ordered it, and they would like to have it tonight. They're regulars. Do you think you can handle that?"

Nathaniel fiddled with the bag nervously. He counted six pills. The thought of taking another one made him wince as he recalled the soreness he experienced. "I can – hang on. There are magicians here? In Prague? And I thought Em was the seller."

Alec nodded, crossing his arms. "Yes, Em is the _seller. _Not the deliverer. Anne and Stefan deliver but they're a bit occupied at the moment. And yes, there are magicians. They like to hide themselves. Many of the people here feel that their presence are an insult. Which I agree."

Nathaniel decided to take a chance. "You know, I've heard stories of people building an army against the magicians. Like in London. They would steal weapons and use it against them."

Alec paused, considering Nathaniel for a second. "Sounds bad ass. Fortunately, we don't have to worry much about magicians here. Just these guys for now."

"If you hate magicians, why are you providing them your services?"

"Magicians make good money. You can easily rip them off. And, like I said, they're regulars. They always come back for more. It's not good business to turn someone away if they're willing to dish out large amounts of money at you."

With the grace of a sick youth, Em rushed by Alec's side. She bent down, whispering into his ears. Alec shook his head. "Enough, Em. It'll work, trust me."

A mild annoyance crept up on Nathaniel. He tightened his grip on the paper bag, crumping it. "If you're going to have doubts about me, I prefer if you would say it out loud. Whispering about as if I'm not here is rude."

Alec chuckled. "He's right, Em. But the whispering isn't about you. It's about the pills."

Nathaniel blinked. "Oh. What's wrong with them?"

"Viktor is trying out a new thing. He added something extra as a special thank you for them supporting our business. A little extra symptom for them to enjoy. Em is just worried it's not going to have it's intended effect. But we already tested them, and they work exactly how we want them to work. Just slightly stronger effects. But it should pass."

From behind the pot, Viktor grunted. He switched off the burner. The contents within the pot stopped bubbling. A foul stench rose from the pot. Em, muttering to herself, reached around the table and placed a lid on top of the pot.

"So I just deliver it?" Nathaniel asked, suppressing the urge to cough as the stench assaulted his nose.

"Well, first you need to ask for the money first. And _then, _you can give it to them. You don't want to stick around. Unless, you want to see what these pills do."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what? Stick around them." Alec chuckled, brushing his hair out of his face. "It'll make no difference to our plan. So, are you going to do the mission?"

Viktor grunted. "He's not going do it. He looks like a bitch."

Although he couldn't see how, Nathaniel knew that he was getting closer. He was in the group now. They were relying on him to do an important task that dealt with magicians. Something about this felt like he was on the right track. And yet, he was uneasy. He thought of Bartimaeus and silently cursed. Why must he be gone now? When he needed him the most? Taking a deep breath, Nathaniel stuffed the brown paper bag into his coat's pocket. _Safe, secret, secure._

"I'll do it. What's the address?"

-0o0o0o0o0o0oo-

Standing before him was a grand house made out of aging stone. Curtains were drawn to a close, but he could see light filtering through. The wooden steps leading up to the front door groaned beneath his steps. Nathaniel glanced down at the piece of paper with the scribbled address that Alec had provided him. With confirmation, he raised a hand and knocked. He took a breath, calming his nerves. It was a long and cold journey. He hadn't expect that running and hiding in the shadows, away from police and questionable people, would be exhausting. It had been an hour since Alec had let him go, and he had spent the last thirty minutes weaving in and out of the dark neighborhoods, searching for his destination. With every step he took, he would look over his shoulder as if expecting for something. Every bump in the night made him jump, and he had already cursed at two stray cats that abruptly scurried away into the shadows. His legs would be aching if they weren't numb from the cold.

Muffled conversation could be heard from inside; the porch light flickered on. A very round man opened the door slightly, peeking out at Nathaniel.

"Yes? Who is it?" He asked. He wore a small monocle and his hair was nothing but a fine tuft on his head.

"I work for Alec," Nathaniel started. From his pockets, he pulled out the paper bag. "You ordered these, yes?"

The man's eyes widened. Licking his lips, the man grabbed Nathaniel by the arm, pulling him inside. With a yelp, Nathaniel fell forward.

"Did anyone follow you, boy?" Slamming the door shut, the round man snarled as he grabbed Nathaniel from the back of his collar, pulling him up on his feet. Nathaniel raked at the man's hands with desperation.

"Let me go! No!"

With a grunt, the man released Nathaniel. Huffing, Nathaniel looked about his surrounding. It was a much nicer place. Well, as nice as it could get in Prague. Although the walls could use some work, Nathaniel noticed how clean everything had seem. The rug beneath his feet, as dusty as it was, was still beautiful. It reminded him of the rug Simon Lovelace's partner had commissioned long ago. Ornate candles and picture frames lined the walls, and the wooden furniture were neatly placed in a perfect arrangement. The place vaguely reminded him of his younger days with Underwood.

A shrill voice called out, echoing throughout the building.

"Randyll? Is that our order? Bring it here, would you?"

The round man sniffed as he fixed his sleeves into place. "You ruined my suit, boy. You better hope this stuff is good. Follow me."

Begrudgingly, Nathaniel followed. Thankfully, the man was slow. As they walked, Nathaniel took in every detail he could find. There was the large photograph with three smiling men wearing suits, including the round man; candles and incense were spotted stuffed in an old bookshelf that contained magical tomes. Nathaniel even spotted the edge of a pentacle, poorly hidden underneath a dirty rug. He sniffed the air; no familiar scent of burning incense.

_Three magicians. No spirits. It seems that they haven't summoned anything in quite some time._

For a moment, Nathaniel thought of revealing his true identity. They were magicians! They could help him with his mission now that Bartimaeus had gone missing. Magicians must always stick together, especially in a hostile environment like Prague.

_Who's to say they aren't working for the Resistance?_

He remembered that a magician summoned a djinn to murder him. No, he must keep his identity a secret.

With an abrupt shove, the round man led Nathaniel into a large and occupied room. Similarly to the room before, the place was neatly decorated with antique furniture. A frail chandelier hung from the ceiling, giving the place a bit more of a refined look. Three magicians stood in front of a burning fireplace chatting. Nathaniel recognized only two of them from the photograph. One of them was a very pale, young man with dark hair and bright eyes. The other was a much shorter man, a head shorter than Nathaniel. His face was pinched and he held himself in boastful manner. The unknown man was a graceful dark-skinned man. Everything about him screamed powerful. His suit was smart and sharp and his smile lacked any warmth.

As Nathaniel entered the room, the three men paused in their amicable chatter. The short magician eyed Nathaniel curiously before smiling, revealing stained teeth.

"Do you have it, child?"

Nathaniel wordlessly nodded. He held up the brown paper bag.

The short magician hummed approvingly. "I'll take that then."

Nathaniel held the bag up, out of reach from the short magician's grasping hands.

"You have to pay first. Alec wants the money upfront before I hand anything out."

The young magician chuckled as the short man snarled.

"Now, listen here child," the short man growled as he stomped his foot. "I don't play silly games. So, hand me that bag now or else! I know powerful people in far away places, child. I know things that your nightmares couldn't even come up with. Now, hand me that bag!"

"This is amusing," said the young magician. Chuckling, he nudged at the unknown man next to him. "A child is taller than Franklin! How embarrassing is that?"

Looking up from the short magician's tantrum, Nathaniel glanced into the unknown man's dark, cold eyes. Suddenly feeling his knees go weak, Nathaniel fearfully glanced back down. The round man grunted from behind, and with aching fingers, snatched the bag from Nathaniel's grip.

"Hey! You have to pay first!" With effort, Nathaniel lunged at the round man. With a push and shove, the round man successfully knocked Nathaniel down. He landed heavily on floor, pain shooting up his side.

"We'll pay!" The short magician sneered as he scrambled over Nathaniel as if relishing the small moment of being above the boy. "Just give us a moment, _child."_

Wincing, Nathaniel sat up and watched as the round magician reach into the bag with shaky hands. As if by habit, he expertly propped two pills onto the back of his thumb and flicked into the back of his throat. The bag passed around; more hands reached into the bag. Only the unknown man didn't partake. He stood in the back, silently watching the rest of the magicians. As the last pill was being swallowed, the round man let out a short and gurgled cough.

"Ah! It has been so long, boy." He coughed again, thumping on his chest. "It's been quite some time. I may need to get used to the side effects, yes."

The short magician eyes widened. "Are these the stronger ones that I requested, child? Alec has been doing great work. Abraham has taught him very well, don't you think Venny?"

The young magician cleared his throat, loosening his collar. "I think… these are stronger. Yes, Abraham is very good with choosing his apprentences. And you child? Are you new?"

Nathaniel nodded wordlessly. He was focused on the short man's face; it was turning pale now, and his eyes were almost bulging.

"What -?" The short man swirled to face Nathaniel. His mouth moved, but no sound came from it.

"I- uh – I was told that you would get some new symptoms but that it should pass. So, the payment is –"

The round man suddenly toppled over to the ground. A gurgling sound could be heard. He coughed; blood splattered against the carpet. The short magician collapsed; one hand clutching at his throat, the other reaching out for Nathaniel. His breath were slow and short. Blood began to dribble on his chin.

"What—did—you – do?"

Heart pounding, Nathaniel scrambled to his feet away from the short man's grasp. He looked in horror at the scene before him. The round man was now shaking, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Nathaniel wasn't quite sure whether to cry or to vomit. Everything seemed to be going too quickly. He attempted to scream, but it stopped short at his throat. Fear had gripped his throat. He needed to get away. The room filled with more cough as the third magician fell to his knees, gurgling out a blood-curdling scream. Nathaniel turned ready to run; the unknown man grabbed his arm, yanking him back. With a cry, Nathaniel fought back; he felt his fist connect the man's face. The man let out a curse and slammed Nathaniel against the wall.

"What the _fuck_ did you _do_, Nathaniel?"

Wide eyed, Nathaniel paused in his struggle. "I - Bartimaeus..?"

"Why are you here!? Damn it. They were just about to explain to me that troubles they have been having with some of the commoners here! _Why are you here_!?"

To Nathaniel's anger and humiliation, he felt hot tears stinging his eyes. His voice trembled as he spoke.

"Bartimaeus, I—I don't understand what's going on. Alec –"

The djinn released his grip on Nathaniel, leaving him slumped against the wall. He passed a hand over his face as he surveyed the scene. The last living magician's took in a rasping breath, his eyes seemingly blank. Finally, there was silence.

Nathaniel's shoulder trembled. He couldn't move. His vision blurred behind his tears as he stared at the lifeless bodies. Every instinct that had told him to run was now crashing, burning. A sob erupted from him. The strength left his legs as he slid against the walls, sinking down onto his knees. His breathing was ragged, and his tears flowed unchecked.

"I just murdered magicians," he said in between sobs.

"Yup, join the club, kid." Bartimaeus bent over the bodies, searching in their pockets. "Don't see why you're worked up over it now. You killed the old magician back when you were—what - twelve? And you sorta had the Underwoods murdered. Clean the snot from your face, please."

"That was self defense! And I didn't kill the Underwoods. This was deliberate. I gave them –"

"The drugs Alec gave you."

Bartimaeus face hardened with a sudden realization. His cold dark eyes now shone brightly. He rushed towards Nathaniel, bending down to his eye level. His tone was now rushed and stern.

"What exactly did Alec tell you, Nat? Did he know these guys were magicians? I need you to tell me everything you know."

Nathaniel wiped his face but the tears kept coming.

"He knew they were magicians. He asked how I am around them. He then told me that they're regular costumers and that they're expecting a new shipment of the drugs. It was money motivated. Magicians have money. He wanted me to give it to them and he mentioned that they were going to get a whole new experience. I asked what he meant. He said that I could stick around to see what happens but I just wanted to take the money and go. I didn't want to stick around. I just wanted to drop it off and go. I didn't know. I didn't know anything. Now they're gone and -"

"Nathaniel, do you know what this means? Alec could be one of them. He could be working for Hopkins. We have to go back. You have to take me to him."

"Why weren't you there?" Nathaniel cried, desperately fighting back the tears.

"What?"

"I needed you and you weren't there."

Bartimaeus let out an impatient sigh as he stood back up. "I'm here now. We have work to do, Nathaniel. Listen, I'll get rid of the bodies. You focus on recomposing on yourself. You're a mess."

"I'm only a mess because you weren't there!" Nathaniel shouted. His anger was now giving him new strength. His face mottled with crimson. "You disappeared on me and left me all alone."

"For only a day. Damn it, you can't handle being on your own for a day!? We're not discussing this right now. We have three corpses, a hot trail, and frankly, I'm not in the mood. Help me lift this big guy."

The djinn bent down and grabbed the round magician by the ankle. He paused, looking at Nathaniel expectantly. "Are you gonna help and grab his arms or do I have to do everything myself?"

"Is this what you've been doing? Making friends with the magicians? Drinking their wine and getting all cozied up beside the fireplace?"

Bartimaeus scrunched up his face in annoyance. "Yes, for the fucking mission you wanted done."

"Do you want to know the shit I had to go through the past few hours!?" Nathaniel was now standing, his clenched fists at his sides. The tension in his voice wavered against his easing sobs.

"No, not really. But I have a feeling I'm gonna hear about it anyways."

"You're being an insufferable dick!"

Bartimaeus let out a frustrated groan. "Nathaniel, I'm not going to ask again. Shut the hell up or I will leave you all alone again."

Nathaniel angrily wiped his tears again, but said nothing. It wasn't often that Bartimaeus would threaten him. In reality, it was often Nathaniel threatening the djinn. He felt himself flush upon realizing that the djinn now had power over him emotionally. The room fell silent once again. Only the sound of frantic shuffling and footsteps could be heard as Bartimaeus moved the bodies.


	12. Pouring Rain

_Bartimaeus_

It wasn't the most glamorous reunion, to be honest. But then again, I've never had a glamorous reunion with a magician before. It was just the worst possible timing. After leaving Nathaniel behind, I decided that I was going to complete this mission in my own way. A much faster way. The boy always somehow slowed me down and the speed we were going with the mission was taking a toll on my essence. I also needed to get away far from him and back to the Other Place. It only took half a day to find the very few magicians that lived in Prague. I figured there still must be around, just in hiding. After blending in with the few commoners, and prying some information out with some smooth talking, I discovered the names of the magicians and their location.

Arriving at their place, I spent the rest of the day acting as a traveling magician from London. Like the idiots that all magicians were, they immediately took me in. The amount of bullshit that I strung together in detailed stories to keep them entertained could clog the sewer system of Rome. They ate it all up, fascinated with every remark I made. Eventually, after a few careful prodding, the conversation then switched from late wives to commoners. Troublesome commoners, to be exact. From what I gathered, commoners were not as hostile as they are in London. In fact, there was no violence. Instead, they were much more sneaky with their actions. They reported to Prague's armed forces who would quickly arrest the unsuspecting magician. The same folks that chased Nathaniel and I across the city a few years ago. So, it was all just arrests. No explosions or attempted assassinations.

Because of this, the few magicians living in Prague were often moving place to place. Every few months, their address would change. They would change their names and don a whole new identity. They also very rarely summoned spirits. I questioned on why they would stay in Prague, but they never gave me a straight answer. Something about pride. A stupid answer, frankly. Despite all the stupidity that were pouring out of their mouth, I was still getting the answers I wanted and needed. I was one step closer to freedom. Just as the youngest magician bent down to whisper his most recent but troubling commoner, Nathaniel walks in. As with most things with him, chaos followed.

He was only there for a few minutes and yet - he ruined _everything_. The whole mission just went belly-up. In a span of half an hour, three magicians chocked in their own blood to death and it wasn't even planned. It was astounding really. I really need to check if that counts as a world record. Not even I could pull that off. But, I digress. To make matters worse, Nathaniel _started arguing with me_. My patience was at an all-time low. Usually, I participate in these arguments. I never miss a moment to spit out straight facts at him. But I was not in the mood and I made sure he knew that.

The drugs were laced, that much was obvious. Alec deliberately gave Nathaniel laced drugs, knowing the effect it would lead. Before their unfortunate and untimely death, the magicians did mention something interesting. An Abraham. Whoever he is, he seemed important enough to have some kind of an assistant and he knew of the magicians. If Alec is Abraham's assistant, I'm assuming Alec was taking his orders on killing these poor folks. Perhaps Abraham works closely with Hopkins Hopkins or the mercenary. Either way, it was another person I needed to meet. Another step closer.

Dawn was now nearing. The gentle tapping of the raindrops against the cobblestone pavement were picking up in speed. I tossed the hood of my coat over my head to shield my face. I was back in Ptolemy's form. It was risky changing my form but it had to be done. I took a quick glance at Nathaniel and noticed fat raindrops seeping into his coat. The bitter wind picked up and he shivered, letting out a small curse. We picked up the pace, head down. Small puddles splashed beneath our feet as he led me directly to Alec's domain.

"Did Alec say anything about coming back?" I asked after several minutes of quiet walking.

"No."

He took a sharp turn to the left and ducked underneath an abandoned wooden fence that had once closed off the alleyway. Without glancing behind, he kept walking. I followed, keeping up with his pace. The stony walls seemed to close in, towering over us in an unsettling manner. I kept an eye on the many windows of the buildings, searching for any movements.

"Very creepy here. It would be a lot better if I could fly us to his place. Much faster that way. It seems that Prague _does_ suck ass."

He said nothing. A large dumpster sat in the center of the narrow alleyway, blocking our path. He squeezed past it with his back against the wall while I did a somersault over it, landing neatly on my feet.

"Did you see that? Parkour."

He wiped the rain off his face with a soaked sleeve. He kept walking, hands stuffed in his coat's pocket. I stayed where I was, watching him stalk away. By this point, the rain was pouring mercilessly. His coat was beginning to drip and his shoes squelched with every step.

"Hey!" I called out.

He was already halfway down the alleyway before he slowed down. Upon realizing I wasn't following him anymore, he turned and faced me. He looked at me and I looked at him. A low rumble of thunder could be heard in the far distance. He was shivering underneath his soaked coat but he didn't show any discomfort. In fact, he showed no emotion. His face was a blank slate. I couldn't quite read his mood, which was a first.

"Why aren't you talking? You're not even complaining about your soaked socks. Half of London knows about your hatred of wet socks. What gives?"

"Damn it," he hissed through his teeth as if his jaw were wired shut. "_Now_ you want to talk?"

He jabbed his finger at my direction. "Why is it that when _I_ need us to talk, you evade me? But when _you_ want to talk, its not okay for me to be quiet!"

I rolled my eyes and held up my hands up. "Shit, man. Forget I asked."

"No! You wanna talk? Let's talk. We're discussing this right now."

He stomped towards me, his sneakers making a comedic squelching sound. It really didn't help him look serious. Not that I ever took him seriously.

"Why did you leave me?" He challenged, jabbing his finger sharply onto my chest. I smacked it away as if it was a bug.

"Clingy much?"

Lightning flashed, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. It could have been my imagination, but during the few seconds in which the sky lit up, I could have sworn I saw his cheeks go red. I felt my essence stir. I quelled it down.

"My day was absolute shit because of you. All of this could have been avoided if you were just there!" He shouted, one fist clenched at his side and the other wiping the raindrops that fell across his face. He looked pathetic.

"So are you admitting that you fucked up the mission? That if I were there, none of this would have happened? Wow, Nat. Didn't think you could admit your own faults and flaws. While we're on this topic, let me list some more of these flaws of yours."

"_Shut up_!" He growled as he shoved me. It was a clumsy shove but he still managed to almost make me lose my balance.

"Do that again and I'll express mail you to Hopkins in a cardboard box," I snapped.

"No! You're an ass. You're the cause of my confusing feelings!"

"I'm not your therapist but, _please_, for my sake, go see one."

"Am I interrupting a lover's spat?" A familiar voice drawled on.

Nathaniel jumped and let out a small shriek. Before he could run, I grabbed him roughly by the collar of his coat, shoving him behind me, away from the direction of the source of the voice.

"Who's there?" I snarled.

From within the shadows of the alleyway, Alec stepped out with a grin on his face. Got to hand it to him, it was a very theatrical entrance, albeit a bit cheesy. But if the lighting and the dreary atmosphere was there, anyone would take that as an opportunity in a heartbeat. Nevertheless, I made sure to keep my distance from Alec. After all the shit he pulled, I don't exactly trust him. Not that I ever did, mind you.

"You really shouldn't sneak up on people like that," I advised. "Could get yourself killed one day."

Nathaniel peeked over my shoulder. "Oh, it's just Alec."

The tall teen made no indication that he heard us. From his pocket, Alec pulled out a cigarette and offered one to me. I declined. Shrugging, he lit it and inhaled the grey wispy stench. As he spoke, smoke puffed out from his lips.

"We missed you earlier, Ptolemy. Long night?"

"How'd you find us?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. He didn't seem to have anything on him. No phone, no scrying glass, nothing. Just a simple black leather jacket that squeaked as he moved.

"I was getting worried about Nathan since he hadn't come back yet. Decided to look for him myself. Speaking of which…" Alec took another drag and exhaled, watching the smoke drift up into the wet air and disappear. "How'd it go Nathan?"

"You miserable cunt!" Nathaniel shouted. He stepped from behind me angrily, gesticulating wildly. I pulled him back by the arm to keep him by my side. "You could have fucking warned me. What the hell is your problem!?"

Alec doubled over and burst into a loud harsh cackle of laughter. "What's the deal, Nathan? I thought you were used to this. Aren't the Resistance killing magicians up in London?"

"YES! But I'm not killing them! I don't want to be a murderer."

He was still laughing. Nathaniel stood there with irritation in his anger. His mouth was rigid and his hard staring eyes never blinked. I sensed fury about to be unleashed. Nathaniel was never the kind to laugh at the dead. He was always very strict about showing the dead the upmost respect. Especially if they were magicians. I learned my lesson when I once made a dark joke over some poor old bloke's death a few years back. I got an earful that day. Alec's laughter seemed to have triggered a fuse within him. I nudged him.

"Don't do anything stupid," I hastily whispered.

"Oh, this is great!" Taking one last drag, Alec tossed the cigarette into a nearby puddle. The small fire snuffed out, a faint smoke rising. "How'd they go out? Did they choke in their own blood? Was there a lot? I bet the fat one rolled all over the place when he fell over, huh?"

He was finding this way too amusing. Nathaniel was seething in his anger now. I could almost see the steam blow from his ears as if he was some kind of train engine. Before Nathaniel could answer, I stepped in.

"Are you part of the Resistance?"

Alec lazily appraised me for a few seconds. "Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on why you're asking."

"Who's Abraham?"

I saw a glint of suspicion in his eyes. His smile faltered, and his brows furrowed. For almost a minute, Alec and I regarded each other silently. Neither of us moved. The rain was lessening now and the first evidence of dawn was finally faintly peeking through the heavy, dark clouds.

"How do you know about him?" He finally asked, his mouth twisting.

I gave him a small shrug. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"This isn't a game, Ptolemy."

"I sure hope its not," Nathaniel interrupted, scoffing. "Murdering people isn't exactly what I would call a favored past time."

Alec kicked a loose pebble. "I wouldn't call it murdered, exactly. Just removed. Exterminated. As you would with a roach infestation in your own home."

"I think I recall Adolf Hitler using the same language," I pointed out. "Whatever word you use, it's all the same to me."

Alec gave a small smile, eyes glancing back and forth between Nathaniel and I. He chuckled lightly. "That's pretty apparent, actually. An apologist for the magicians. Honestly, it's fascinating. I thought, out of everyone here, you would be the one jumping for joy. I was a little disappointed but perplexed at your motives. But, after what I just witnessed between you and Nathan… Well, I understand now. And it's vile." He spat the last word out, eyes burning with pure hate piercing me down.

I shifted uneasily. "What are you talking about?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He mocked. "There's no point in hiding it now, then. Do you want to meet Abraham? I suppose I should introduce you two to him. You can ask all your burning questions to him."

"You never answered our question," Nathaniel remarked. "Are you part of the Resistance?"

"No, I'm not. But I don't mind doing the work. Sometimes I get asked to do the dirty work. Sometimes I accept them. Only if it benefits me, of course. I'm just a kid with a small growing business."

"You mean that drug business in that shit hole?"

Alec sniffed. "My patience is wearing thin now. If you want to talk to Abraham, you're going to have to meet him this coming evening. He's holding a large feast for the people here in Prague to celebrate Gladstone's death. It'll be held at the Old Town Hall. Dress sharp. Otherwise, you'll stick out. Now, I've only came to collect the payment that you took from the magicians."

"Tough shit," I goaded. "If you want the money, you can get it yourself. The bodies are all stuffed in a tight closet. Might wanna be careful opening it as they might all topple over and land on you. You especially don't want the big one to fall on you."

"Oh, so you were there too, Ptolemy? How'd it feel? Watching those magicians squirm helplessly?"

I waved a hand. "I'm not answering your questions. You're fucked in the head."

He gave a lazy shrug. "Fine. If you two ever need anything, you know where to find me. And I hope you enjoy Abraham's feast tomorrow. There's a rumor that some special guests will arrive, so he's bringing out the fanciest cooks for the fanciest dish. He even told me of a special ingredient. I don't think you want to miss out on that."

With that said, Alec turned on his heels and walked away, his leather jacket billowing in the bitter wind. Only the scent of burned nicotine was left lingering in his place. The constant pattering of the rain had ended long ago but the atmosphere was still damp. Nathaniel let out a wet sneeze and wiped his nose. His soaked clothes provided no heat from the cold. I offered to dry it off with a bit of fire but he refused as it will only attract unwanted attention and the stink of magic will linger heavily around us. Instead, shivering and with every squelching step of our soaked shoes, we made the miserable trip back towards the direction to his hotel room. It was time to go back and recollect ourselves.


	13. Suits and Confessions

_Nathaniel_

'_Sorry, the number you are trying to reach is busy. Please leave a message after the tone.'_

"Hey, Jane. It's Na- It's John. I'm calling to, uh, check on your progress with the interrogation. I've made some progress here in Prague. A few hiccups, here and there. But, uh, call me when you get the chance. Well, call the hotel. I'm using the hotel's phone. Just ask for me. Um, right. Bye."

The phone clicked into the receiver. Nathaniel sighed.

The lobby of the hotel was almost desolate. A lone, sad-eyed woman stood behind the run-down front desk typing away into her monitor. Only the sounds of the clicking keys filled the room. The quietness brought out the stillness of the lobby. Nathaniel pressed his back against the wall, his shoulders slumped with all the stress that the past night had brought. He sneezed and cursed. Even while wearing his lightest clothes, he was radiating heat. He felt weak and each sneeze brought about a strong headache. It was a shame that his immune system couldn't handle a bit of cold rain. After spending the rest of the morning and half of the afternoon sleeping, he had been eating nothing but bland soup that Bartimaeus had insisted in buying.

The young Egyptian boy sat slouched on one of the many dusty futons in the lobby flipping through a magazine with a lazy curiosity. Since the argument last night, the djinn hadn't made any attempts to start a conversation with him. Not that Nathaniel didn't mind. He was too tired at the moment. Too weak to even care.

With a sluggish pace, Nathaniel parted his way from the wall, and collapsed onto the seat next to the djinn. Bartimaeus continued to ignore him, flipping a page apathetically.

"We need to buy suits," Nathaniel stated. "You heard Alec. We have to look good for the feast."

Bartimaeus hummed in agreement.

"I was thinking we could go to the one that's across the street from the nightclub we went to. I saw there was a sale. Or we could just steal it, if you're up for it."

"Don't you think we've done enough crime for a lifetime?" The djinn thumbed a page.

Before he could answer, a violent sneeze erupted from Nathaniel. He groaned, rubbing his pounding temples.

"Okay, honestly_, _do you _have_ to be next to me when you do that?" Bartimaeus hissed. He scooted a few inches away from the nose dribbling magician. "When do you wanna buy the suits anyways?"

Nathaniel wiped his nose with the back of his sleeves and sniffed. "We should go now, if that's okay. The sun is still out and the feast is in a few hours."

Tossing the magazine aside, Bartimaeus stood and stretched. "Let's go then."

Walking in the streets of Prague was always a dreadful activity for Nathaniel. He despised everything that Prague had to offer. The brooding trees, the towering ancient walls, the cold people. Everything screamed hostility at him. Nathaniel wanted nothing more than to curl up in his own bed back in London, drinking the highest quality hot soup he could afford. He longed for his fluffy pillows, and for his soft fleece that had always kept him warm even during the most bitter winter nights. He longed to hide under the sheets and to forget the world for some time. He wanted to go home and disappear.

Crossing the busy streets, Nathaniel stole a quick glance at Bartimaeus. He supposed the djinn would like to go home as well. Possibly more than he did. Nathaniel's face twisted with guilt just before he sneezed. He tugged on his coat.

"It's so hot."

"No, it's not. Keep your coat on, you're running a fever. We're almost there to the store."

Down the street the pair walked. The bell above the door ringed as they entered the store. Much to Bartimaeus's displeasure, Nathaniel shrugged his coat off. It was a clean area. The black and white tiles could use some polishing, and the air was stuffy, but it was a breath of fresh air compared to the hotel. A couple of shoppers were walking about, going through racks of freshly-pressed suits.

With light feet, an employee approached Nathaniel and bowed. He wore a suit, possibly to advertise it. His shiny blonde locks fell on either side of his face like a curtain.

"Hello," he said. "Would you like me to assist you in your shopping journey?"

He held out a gloved hand, palm up.

"Er – I'm sorry?" Nathaniel shifted, cheeks reddening.

"Your coat sir. I can hold onto it, if you'd like."

"Oh… Right, sorry."

With graceful movements, the young man took the coat and padded off with light feet. Nathaniel stuffed his clammy hands into his pockets. He heard the djinn let out a chortle.

"Seriously? He wasn't even that good looking," Bartimaeus ridiculed. He was already sifting through the racks, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nathaniel snapped.

The djinn pulled a tan suit. He eyed it meticulously, and held it up against the young magician.

"What size are you? Also, I figured out what's wrong with Jane. Well, everything is wrong with her but it's actually not _her_ that's the problem. Which is a first."

Sneezing, Nathaniel grabbed the suit from the djinn's grasp and inspected the tag. "No, no. These are a bit too big. I'm two sizes smaller. But what did you figure out?"

Bartimaeus pulled out navy blue suit. He checked the tags, and held it up for Nathaniel.

"How 'bout this? Let me ask you this before I tell you. What other girl are you attracted to? Why Jane?"

Nathaniel nodded, taking the suit. "This should be fine. Now we have to find one for you. Um, Piper is pretty. Jane is intelligent and she'd make a suitable ally. Better that than as an enemy."

Bartimaeus plucked a suit off the rack and made his way to the other side of the store. A clean display of different colored bowties and ties all varying in size and color were laid out neatly side by side. For a moment, neither said anything. Picking out a single bowtie, Bartimaeus eyed it.

"That's quite not what I asked," Bartimaeus mused. "Are you _attracted_ to them? Do you want an actual _relationship _with them? Which one: bowties or ties? Also, wipe your nose please."

Nathaniel pondered for a moment as he scanned at his choices. "I… I guess I don't really care much about seeking them out for intimate reasons. I was just doing it because I thought I was supposed to."

The djinn held the bowtie up for Nathaniel who shook his head, his face scrunching up with distaste. Bartimaeus looked at the bowtie disapprovingly and set it neatly back down onto the display. He plucked up a tie.

Bartimaeus jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "How about if blondie over there offered to take you out for dinner?"

"W-what?" Nathaniel sputtered. "I d-don't know. It depends on his motives. Why would he do that?"

"To fuck you, duh."

The djinn's crude response shocked Nathaniel. He could feel his cheeks heating up, and his stomach do a flip.

"Quit being so crass!"

"You didn't answer my question. Would you say yes? Will the tie be okay?"

"I-I don't know! I… I suppose it… Um, yes."

"Yes to..?" The djinn trailed off, nodding slowly.

With a huff, Nathaniel snatched the tie from Bartimaeus's grip. The absurdity of the conversation was now hitting him and he refused to think more about the situation. What's between Jane and him are private matters. Nathaniel had once talked to Bartimaeus about Jane multiple times, and the conversation had always ended with arguments and hurt feelings. Even so… The djinn did pointed something out.

Clothes in hand, Nathaniel stormed off into a private stall – a changing room. Much to his annoyance, Bartimaeus followed close behind, snickering. And much to his disappointment, the stall didn't have a proper door. Instead, it was a flimsy curtain held up by a single metal rod. Nathaniel stepped inside, and slammed the curtain behind him. He cursed. Nathaniel poked his head out.

"When I close this curtain, I want you to imagine hearing a door slam so you can know that I'm angry."

Bartimaeus leaned against a clothing rack. "When are you not?"

"Just do it."

"Let me know if the clothes fit."

Nathaniel slammed the curtain closed again. It will never be satisfying. Nothing could beat a wooden door. Not wasting anymore time, Nathaniel diligently tried on his suit. With a final sneeze and a cough, Nathaniel viewed himself from the mirror. Although it wasn't exactly his style or his color, Nathaniel liked it. The suit fit him perfectly. The deep navy-blue color was something he would never go for, but it complimented his tussled black hair and blue eyes. He tugged on his tie; it was a simple patterned tie that completed the look effortlessly. A thought came across him. He inspected the tag that dangled from his sleeve.

"Um, Bartimaeus?"

"Yeah?" The djinn's voice answered right outside his stall.

"How are we going to pay for this? These are expensive..."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I took the magician's money. I think I counted about 7000 Czech Koruna."

"What!? I thought you told Alec that—"

"Ye-e-ah, I lied."

Nathaniel abruptly opened the curtain. The djinn, who was still leaning against a clothing rack, eyed him from the top of his head to his toes. He cocked his head, lips pursing. Nathaniel felt himself flush.

"Does it not look good?"

Uncharacteristically, the djinn blinked. "Oh, uh, no you look fine. I mean, do you have dress shoes? Showing up in socks will get us nowhere."

Nathaniel held back a sneeze by rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "Yeah, I do. In my luggage. Just have to go back to go get it. About before…"

Bartimaeus raised his eyebrows. "Before what?"

"Were you saying I'm gay?"

"That's for you to figure out, bud. But, yes. I think you could be."

Nathaniel glanced down and closed his eyes, not wanting to meet the djinn's watchful eyes. He took a breath. It made sense if he was. It would explain everything. It would explain why he felt nothing whenever Jane came on to him, the disinterest in being intimate with any woman, his constant desire to be with –

"When we kissed, you left me. I was hurt. Why did you leave?"

Nathaniel opened his eyes, forcing himself to look at the djinn in front of him. He tried not to make his voice sound accusatory. Instead, his voice trembled. The djinn gazed at his face, as if searching for the correct answers. He motioned to speak, but hesitated. Finally, the djinn sighed.

"Look, since you're ungodly stubborn, I'll tell you. But I'd rather tell you in private. Not in the middle of a suit store in Prague."

Nathaniel swiftly reached out and tugged the djinn's arm forcefully. Bartimaeus tumbled forward awkwardly, muttering soft curses. With a push and a shove, Nathaniel forced the djinn into the changing stall and shut the curtain behind him. It wasn't as private as he would like, but it was the best that they had.

"Okay, talk now."

It was a tight-fitting changing stall, seeing that it was meant to hold only one person at a time. With only a few inches to spare between the two of them, they had their backs pressed against the wall of the stall. Nathaniel could smell the exotic spice wafting away from the Egyptian boy that stood right in front of him. He felt himself flush, but he forced himself to look up into the djinn's eyes. He chewed on bottom lip.

"Please, talk to me now."

Bartimaeus shifted. "Okay, not what I meant by private but I guess this will do. The truth is..." He cursed, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. Anywhere but at the young magician that stood right in front of him.

"Shit," he whispered. "The truth it, I'm terrified. That last kiss - it was different. Before, I was just going with the motion. It was whatever. But as time went on, things escalated when they shouldn't have. I don't… I've felt this way before long ago - I lost that person and I'm still not quite over that, I don't think. So, I would rather not go through that again."

As he talked, Nathaniel kept his eyes on his throat. It was hard not to. It was only a few inches away from his face. His skin looked soft and smooth. He longed to touch it. He blinked away his thoughts, his cheeks reddening.

"What escalated?" Nathaniel asked, keeping his voice low in case any passing-by customers were in earshot of their conversation. He could hear his heart hammering against his chest. He wondered if the djinn could hear it too.

Bartimaeus gazed back down, meeting Nathaniel's eyes. For a split second, the djinn stole a quick glance at magician's lips. It looked lonely.

"Bart?"

"Fuck it."

The djinn crashed his soft lips against Nathaniel's, muffling his squeaks of surprise. Nathaniel felt Bartimaeus grip his hip and pull him closer, grinding against him. Gasping, Nathaniel pressed a hand against the wall behind him, steadying himself from falling over. Bartimaeus moved his lips against the young magician, tilting his head to deepen and steady the kiss. With every movement, Nathaniel felt himself give in. It was so easy to give in. Everything was hot and cold. Struggling with the peak of a fever, he couldn't help but crave the djinn's cold touch. His heart hammered against his chest, and this time, he _knew_ the djinn could hear it. He kept his eyes closed, taking in everything. The hungry experienced kiss clashing against his, the intoxicating scent of ancient spices, his hair lightly being tugged, the djinn's body pressing against him. Abandoning his lips, Bartimaeus began to pepper his throat with small kisses, lightly biting his earlobe along the way. Nathaniel let out a small moan, only it to be muffled by a kiss.

With his free hand, Nathaniel slipped his fingers underneath Bartimaeus's shirt. He was soft, smooth, warm. His hand continued up, fingers tracing the muscles underneath. He had to try it. Prying himself from Bartimaeus's lip, Nathaniel leaned closer and lightly kissed the djinn's tanned throat. It was also soft and smooth. He grazed his teeth lightly against the Egyptian boy's neck. Bartimaeus grinded against him; a pleasurable sigh escaped Nathaniel's lips. To his surprise, he was no longer embarrassed. Everything felt right. Everything felt perfect. As if it was all meant to be. He felt complete. His eyes fluttered to a close, feeling intoxicated with everything.

"Um, excuse me?" A voice called out from outside the stall.

Nathaniel froze. Bartimaeus peeled back, clearing his throat. Suddenly, Nathaniel felt incomplete.

"Y-yeah?" The djinn called out.

"Is everything alright there, sir? We hear lots of shuffling and moaning in there."

Bartimaeus muttered out a small curse. "Uh, yeah. Just, um, trying on some clothes that are a little too tight, I think. I'll be out in a minute."

Soft footsteps could be heard retreating. Nathaniel waited for a few seconds more, listening intently. Finally, when the footsteps faded away into nothing, they both relaxed. Nathaniel cleared his throat and tugged at his suit, fixing it in place.

"W-we have that feast," he pointed out.

"Right, right. We do. I'll, uh, pay for these then." Gathering himself together, and picking up forgotten clothes, Bartimaeus slipped out of the stall.

"Wait!" Nathaniel shouted after him. He poked his head out of the stall. "My suit. Let me take them off so we can buy it."

Bartimaeus was already halfway to the cash register when he stopped abruptly, turning on his heels. He must have been running. "Oh, yeah. That's right. And then the feast. We do the feast thing."

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm good." To prove himself, Bartimaeus leaned against a clothing rack. The rack teetered and tottered under his weight before ultimately crashing down with a loud crack. Passing-by customers turned their heads towards the sound of the noise. Many of them shook their heads disapprovingly. Bartimaeus cursed, looking over his shoulder as he bent down to attempt to fix the rack.

"Are you KIDDING me?" A disgruntled employee stormed over, arms moving wildly towards the scene. "It took me _weeks_ to have those suits freshly-pressed and you _crumpled it!"_

With a growl and a snarl, the employee threw a punch towards him; Bartimaeus ducked under the flailing arm. Whipping up behind the man, Bartimaeus gave him a light shove. With a cry, the man stumbled over the rack, landing softly on top of the crumpled suits; he let out a blood curdling scream.

"The suits! They're covered in footprints! _MY FOOTPRINTS_!"

Bartimaeus didn't waste time.

"Okay, buddy, time to book it if you want to get to the feast."

Grabbing Nathaniel by the wrist along the way, Bartimaeus ran towards the door. With a yelp, Nathaniel fell in step behind him. The angry employee could be heard shouting a stream of angry curses and threats after them. The doorbell ringed as they slammed their weight against the door. Cold, bitter air greeted them but the pair didn't mind. Nathaniel felt hot, and he was sure the djinn felt it too. Without realizing, his hands moved down and grabbed Bartimaeus's; his fingers slipped in between the djinn's, interlocking. It felt natural to him.

"I guess I haven't done enough crimes in a lifetime," Nathaniel pointed out as they ran across the street. "More thievery added on to the list."

"That one was on me, sorry. Here – we should go down this road. Feast should be in a couple of hours. Want to get ready and go for it?"

Nathaniel nodded wordlessly and tightened his grip on Bartimaeus's hand.


	14. Gladstone's Death Feast

_Bartimaeus_

"Bartimaeus, wait!"

"_Shhhh!_ Quit using my name like that in public. Hurry up – we're gonna be late."

Nathaniel was barely keeping up. His stuffed-up nose was making it difficult for him to breathe as we jogged across Old Town Square. We clearly overestimated the amount of time we had before the feast. Somehow, after taking many twists and turns to avoid being followed by the disgruntled corporate employee, we've managed to get lost. Many arguments later, we've found ourselves back. After getting back to the hotel room, I quickly changed, donning on the stolen brand-new suit. It was tan and sleek and I think Ptolemy would have liked it. It was his color. By the time we were finished getting ready, the feast was about to start.

As we ran across the plaza, I noticed something different. It was… cheery. The first thing I noticed was how crowded the area seemed now. Commoners walked by with their heads held up high, smiling at one another. Usually, on a winter evening like this, the plaza should be almost empty. The second thing I noticed were several kiosks scattered throughout the plaza. Commoners flocked to these with clear interest and purpose. Between his gasp and his wheezing, Nathaniel pointed out several banners and makeshift flags. One quick look at these and I realized what all the commotion was. It was Gladstone's death anniversary. A picture of his face was plastered into each of these banners with his eyes crudely crossed out unceremoniously. In a large font, right below his face, the words read _'Zlo je pryč_.' That was Czech for 'evil is gone.' Not surprised Prague would be celebrating a dark holiday.

The Astronomical Clock Tower stuck out like a sore, magnificent thumb. That's where Old Town Hall was located at. Looking far ahead, I could see several courting couple looking fresh and clean with their evening wear.

"Nat – come on. You can die later."

Nathaniel slowed down his pace, coughing and wheezing. "These people – How dare they speak ill of the dead! And a magic- "

"_Shut_ up," I hissed between my teeth as I pulled him along. "_We're_ one of _them_, remember? So you better look happy the old fool is dead too."

Nathaniel grumbled but quickened his pace.

"We need a plan," he whispered. "How do we know who is Abraham? What do we do after we find him?"

Just ahead of us, commoners formed a small crowd in front of the Astronomical Tower. A cacophony of polite applauses and palpable excitement buzzed through the charged, cold air. Next to the tower, a heavy-set door made out of iron and dark wood opened. Tantalizing and shimmering lights and music spilled out, embracing the commoners. I pulled Nathaniel along and joined the crowd. We've arrived just in time.

One by one, as if herding a group of cows, commoners stepped into the building. I kept my eyes peeled, searching for anything that might resemble an Abraham. I bent low towards Nathaniel and whispered.

"When we find Abraham, should we talk to him before or after the feast?"

Nathaniel pondered for moment, wiping his nose in the process. "We might have to do it after. I'm not sure we'll be able to find him before the ceremony begins. How should we introduce ourselves?"

We stepped into the building. It was a grand space, to say the least. A grandiose portrait was pinned along one side of the old stone walls. On the other walls, several wrought iron candles were lit, flames dancing gently. In the center of the room, a large iron chandelier with several lit candles hung from the ceiling. It seemed that the place was cleared out of everything in preparation for the feast. A large mahogany table took up most of the space. In fact, it was large enough to seat the entire crowd that was busy bustling in and settling down. Silver plates and utensils were neatly arranged across the table. There must have been about fifty of these sets. My essence stirred. I hesitated. This place was covered in lethal metal.

Nathaniel followed my gaze. "Iron and silver?"

I nodded. "Yeah… And I think that's Abraham."

At the head of the mahogany table, a broad-chested man sat. He had a sharp face with a wide smile. His beard, similar to his bright ginger hair, was kept in a close shave. He wore a smart and elegant suit. In his breast-pocket, a green handkerchief spilled out pompously. He held a dark smooth wooden cane with his left hand. He stood up from his chair, leaning heavily against his cane, and spread one arm out ceremoniously.

"Welcome everyone! Welcome! Everyone, take a seat."

As one, the crowd split and took their seats. Nathaniel and I took our seats near the center of the table. A line of people sat to our left and rights, chattering to their neighbors. The silver radiating from the plates and silverware were almost overwhelming. I gritted my teeth and swallowed. This is bad. With a napkin, I subtly pushed the silver plate away from me and kept my distance. It didn't do much, but it was better than nothing.

Nathaniel sneezed into the crook of his elbow. Wiping his nose, he leaned towards me.

"I think we should confront him after the dinner. Is that okay?"

"I'll take care of the talking," I said, nodding.

Abraham tapped his cane against the stone flooring. The chattering of the crowd quietened, and looked up expectantly at the broad-chested man. He smiled, his teeth gleaming.

"Welcome to Gladstone's Death Feast!" He said with a hearty laugh. The crowd giggled along with him. Nathaniel sulked silently.

"It's the one day of the year where we can all be thankful for Gladstone," Abraham continued, his cheery voice booming. "It's wonderful, isn't it? Prague had sustained many damages. Damages that still lurks in the shadows to this day. Our grandfathers and grandmothers lived through a most terrible time. And here we stand, in the ruins. Of what is left of the great Prague. But…"

Abraham paused, as if in deep thought. He rapped the tip of his cane against the table's legs. As if on cue, the doors behind him bustled open. Butlers wearing elegant suits stepped out carrying silver trays with gloved hands. Various steaming food sat on the trays, the delicious scent filling the room.

"But not for long!" Abraham shouted, laughing. There was much shuffling and clattering of plates and silverware. People hummed and chattered amicably, giving out praises and cheers. With great grace and care, the butlers passed out the various meals throughout the table. There was steamed lamb chops with herbs, roasted potatoes, peas and carrots, sausages, honey-glazed ham, sweet bread and pumpkin pastries.

I looked about me in disgust. People were practically drooling and foaming at the mouth. Even Nathaniel looked at the ham and potatoes that was elegantly placed on his plate with great awe. I looked at my plate. A forlorn looking sausage was swimming in thick gravy.

"It's not going to bite you," Nathaniel interjected, amused by my discomfort.

"I'd rather eat shit."

"No, you wouldn't. Eat. You have to blend in."

I scoffed. But he was right. I looked to my right, curious as to what my neighbor was doing. It was a gruff man, with rough beard that covered half of his small face. He was wolfing down a lamb chop with great gusto. Gross. I picked up my sausage with a hand, careful to not touch the plate. I swallowed, suppressing the forming gag. Nathaniel watched as I took a small, tiny bite on one end of the sausage.

"See?" He added, smiling. "It wasn't that bad, now was it?"

"Again, I'd rather eat shit."

"Should I take that back to the chef, Ptolemy?" A familiar voice interrupted.

I looked over my shoulder. A smug looking Alec wearing a typical butler's outfit stood over me, holding out a silver tray with several champagne glasses.

"I take it the drug business isn't doing so well?" Nathaniel responded before taking a big bite out of his ham.

Alec sucked in his teeth. "If you must know, I'm doing Abraham a favor. He paid handsomely for some important delivery and he promised more if I continued helping him tonight. Speaking of that, I'll be right back."

Lacking the grace that all the other butlers had, Alec stalked towards Abraham, who was now sitting. The food in his plate remained untouched. His eyes slowly ran across the many grubby faces that sat feasting. Alec bent low, whispering into Abraham's ear. A small smile formed. Alarm bells began to ring in my head. Something didn't feel right. I tugged Nathaniel's sleeve.

"Hey, uh, Nat. Something's wrong."

Nathaniel swallowed a mouthful. "What do you mean?" He forked a potato and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Will you _stop_ eating?" I snapped. "You _do_ remember the feast is to celebrate a magician's death, right?"

He paused his chewing. "Oh, right."

"Nat, I think we –"

From the head of the table, Abraham stood. At once, the room quietened again. People paused in their feast and looked up with great expectations, quiet whispers being exchanged among each other. I was getting nervous. I edged myself closer to Nathaniel, ready for any quick impromptu escape. With a voice that carried power, Abraham spoke.

"Today is not just a day for Gladstone's death… It's also a day for quiet revenge..." As he spoke, people leaned in closer, wanting to soak each and every word. "For some time now, I've been working in the shadows. Quietly. I've been working for a very specific goal. I've had some people help me along the way."

He tapped his cane against the table. More butlers bustled into the room, carrying even more trays. I eyed the butlers and flicked through all the planes. No danger...

"Recently, I visited Italy's coast and spent some time there reminiscing that many ways I could fulfill my goal," Abraham's voice boomed over the clatters of plates as several butlers passed brand new dishes along the table. People whispered happily, humming agreeable at their dishes. The most horrid alien-looking dish was placed in front of Nathaniel and I. I scrunched up my nose.

I nudged Nathaniel. "What the hell is this thing?" I whispered, pointing at the dish in front of me.

"It's an oyster…"

"While I was reminiscing," Abraham continued. "A brilliant idea came to me. I could use food to bring people together; to celebrate. Food brings out happiness and joy. It brings people from all kinds of backgrounds. From the poor gentle bloke living in poverty to the most cut-throat politician magician. And it was _perfect_ for my goal. And so I fished along the coast and had my oysters and clams shipped to all over the world."

Abraham paused, possibly for dramatic effect. Some of the people at the table to this opportunity to do a gentle applause. With a flutter of his loose hand, the applause died down. His other hand gripped his cane tightly, knuckles turning white. His smile gave no indication of anger.

"I admit that since I have set out my goals, my plans were… challenged in a way. I had to improvise on the way. But… out of sheer stupid luck, it seems as if things would work out in my favor anyways. Everyone, I would like for you to welcome my special guest."

Alec appeared behind Abraham, holding out the tray with the champagne glass. With his loose hand, Abraham plucked a champagne glass from the tray and raised it. And looked directly at me.

"Welcome John Mandrake and Bartimaeus."

"Fuck," Nathaniel muttered under his breath.

Ladies and gentlemen, _that_ was the appropriate response.


	15. Gone Wrong

_Nathaniel_

The silence was palpable. Nobody moved. All eyes were on Nathaniel and Bartimaeus. Each and every one had a mixture of shock, anger and disgust. The joyful atmosphere of the feast was now gone. Only bitter hate and resentment remained in the air. Nathaniel felt hot and cold. Panic was rising within him, threatening to force itself out. He suppressed it to the best of his ability but his hands trembled. His mind swirled with a million questions. It was Bartimaeus who broke the silence.

"It was nice meeting you all," he said, slowly rising to his feet. "The feast was lovely. Though the sausage could use some – uh – less swimming. Unfortunately, Mandrake and I have some business elsewhere. So –"

"_Silence demon_," Abraham hissed. With a swift movement, he snapped his fingers; two djinns materialized behind Bartimaeus in an instant. Bartimaeus didn't wait to react.

In a matter of seconds, the place erupted into chaos. The beautiful feast was now a battle zone. People scrambled and leapt over the tables to avoid the confrontational djinns. Plates were scattered and food were tossed in every direction. Many of them made a beeline towards the exit, trampling over others on the way.

"Mandrake—hide now," Bartimaeus shouted.

Cursing profusely, Nathaniel quickly grabbed a fork and ducked under the table. Peeking out from underneath, he took a good long look at the two offending djinns. One of the djinn had the body of a large black bear with a molting sneak head. Its head swiveled back and forth and hissed, baring it venomous fangs. The other djinn was a large minotaur, with shiny black hooves and horns that could pierce flesh easily. The minotaur djinn took a step forward towards Bartimaeus, a Detonation in a clawed hand ready to be casted.

Without hesitation, Bartimaeus leapt from his chair and darted above the gnashing snake head, landing heavily on his feet. Bartimaeus tossed a Detonation over his shoulder towards the minotaur and ran. The impact hit hard; a small explosion erupted, pushing the minotaur to fall back with a roar and crash down onto the table. The table let out a crack; Nathaniel scrambled away. Just as he crawled out, the table split under the minotaur's weight. Plates and food from either side of the table were flung into the air and rained down onto the minotaur. The djinn cried out in pain as silver made contact with its essence. With a hop and a bound, Bartimaeus quickly changed his form into a gargoyle.

The snake-head djinn lashed out with its own Detonation; Bartimaeus leapt across, narrowly avoiding the impact. Smoke rose from where he once stood. With swift movement, the gargoyle ran up along the wall and launched itself towards the snake-head djinn. The two djinns collided; teeth gnashing and claws swiping left and right. From its own pile of shattered plates and ruined food, the minotaur was getting back on its hooved feet. Its jaundice eyes scanned the room and spotted Nathaniel pressing his back against the wall. Nostrils flaring, the djinn grabbed the nearest chair and threw it towards the magician.

Nathaniel cried out; the chair collided against the wall only a foot away, leaving nothing but splintered wood and dust. It missed. Nathaniel looked up and paled. With heavy teeth-shattering steps, the minotaur made its way towards him.

Fork in shaky hands, Nathaniel scrambled to his feet. Everything was going wrong. The worst possible scenario was unfolding right in front of him. How could any of this have happened? What went wrong? What gave them away? The minotaur loomed closer, towering over him by a few feet. It snorted, steam puffing out of its wet nostrils. Nathaniel could smell the earthy musk emanating from it. Just as the minotaur was raising a fist, Nathaniel swallowed and took a gamble. With a shout, he lodged the fork into the minotaur's thigh. The minotaur cried out in pain and swung a heavy arm down; Nathaniel ducked and rolled between its legs. Scrambling to his feet, he spotted Bartimaeus. Bartimaeus had a fistful of snake head and was twisting it, forcing the djinn to throw out a desperate clawed punch. It connected; the gargoyle was launched across the room and landed painfully on top of broken silverware.

Nathaniel gritted his teeth. This was his fault. Bartimaeus was already too weak. He kept him here for too long. And he brought him in an unfair fight in a room filled with silver and iron. Everything was going all wrong and it was all his fault. He needed to end this. He needed to – before his djinn got even more hurt.

The minotaur behind him swiveled in place, burning eyes searching. It raised a fist and brought it down heavily towards him. Nathaniel jumped; the heavy fist slammed against the floor, shattering the stone flooring. Nathaniel didn't wait any longer. He took another quick glance around him, before ducking another of the minotaur's punch.

Abraham. He spotted the ginger-haired man across the room leaning heavily against his cane, surveying the scene before him. The room was practically empty now; all the commoners had fled. It was nothing but a chaotic mess. But nothing stood in his way. Nathaniel gritted his teeth, grabbed the nearest butter knife, and ran. It must all end now. The attack, the Resistance, Prague's vengeance. Everything.

From his position among the shattered silverware, Bartimaeus casted an Inferno at the stalking snake-head djinn.; the attack quickly enveloped his opponent. The djinn cried out in pain, thrashing its limbs before collapsing.

Bartimaeus only had a few seconds to spot Nathaniel running across the room towards Abraham, knife in hand and ready to wield.

"NAT-JOHN YOU IDIOT, NO!"

The gargoyle flapped its stony wings and launched itself towards its magician. Nathaniel let out a shriek as the gargoyle crashed down onto him, pinning him down to the ground. Bartimaeus wretched the silver knife from his clammy hand.

"Absolutely not," he growled.

"Let go of me! I have to do this!" Nathaniel, wide-eyed with sheer determination and ambition, squirmed underneath his grasp.

"You're being a fucking idiot!"

From behind, the minotaur roared. Bartimaeus cursed.

"I told you to hide, damn it," he scolded, quickly hopping off and pushing Nathaniel to his feet. "Run, now."

"But – But Abraham. We can –"

"I said now!

The minotaur launched one half of the broken table; boy and gargoyle leapt away from the attack. Nathaniel landed heavily against the ground, debris crashing down around him.

"RUN!"

Nathaniel quickly scrambled to his feet and ran.

Bartimaeus quickly changed his gargoyle form into a small ferret. The rodent quickly darted between the minotaur's legs and ran in erratic directions. Small squeaks of taunt and goad could be heard coming from the elusive ferret. With growing frustration, the minotaur growled and raised a clawed hand towards the running magician; a small sphere of light began to form in its palm.

"I've had enough of you, Bartimaeus," the minotaur growled. "I'll get rid of you through him."

The ferret changed form and jumped. A Detonation was casted –

A bright light enveloped the room; an explosion could be heard. Nathaniel stopped in his tracks and swiveled in place.

_No. No no no._

An unconscious Egyptian boy laid on the ground, helpless. Something about the boy's relaxed face sent fear down his spine. Nathaniel's breathing hitched. He couldn't move his limbs. He couldn't tear his eyes off his djinn. The lump in his throat became impossible to ignore. He was wrong earlier. _This_ was the worst possible scenario.

The minotaur snorted; raised its hand again.

"Nexxle, that's enough."

From the corner of the room, Abraham called out coolly. He was watching everything unfold as if it was a theatrical play. Leaning against his cane, he snapped his finger. The minotaur dematerialized in an instant.

"So," he continued, regarding Nathaniel with a small smirk. "The infamous John Mandrake and Bartimaeus. I must admit, that was all quite amusing. Very brave of your demon to sacrifice his life for you. Interesting, don't you think?"

Nathaniel said nothing. He kept his eyes on his downed djinn.

_Please wake up. Please be okay. Please._

Abraham accepted Nathaniel's silence. "It seems to me that you're completely alone now. Tell me, Mandrake… Do you have a dish in mind for your last meal?"

Abraham's laughter echoed throughout the building. Nathaniel said nothing.

_Please._


	16. Confinement

_Bartimaeus_

Imagine me - _moi – _out in vacation. I'm lounging around in a hammock underneath a palm tree. Soft, cool breeze rustling through my hair as I sip my margarita through a colorful straw. The scenery is beautiful – serene waves lapping at the soft, white sands, clear blue skies with the scorching sun high up, and a hint of smell of fresh ocean life. Sounds pretty rad, eh? Now imagine that same image with a few adjustments.

The gentle breeze is heavy and stale. The soft sounds of waves hitting the beach is replaced with the sounds of moist labored breathing from an angry minotaur – who which sadly replaced my palm tree. The sand is also replaced with cold and clammy cobblestone. My margarita? Gone. My hammock? Also gone. I'm no longer in vacation. Instead, I'm stuck inside a glowing Sphere of Confinement next to my angry captor in what seems to be an ill-maintained cellar filled with large crates oozing out grey juice. Noticed how there was one thing that didn't change in that scenario? The smell. Only the smell was… stronger. Fishier. More pungent. I suppressed a gag.

"Keep making that face and I'll deck you into that wall," the minotaur grumbled.

I made a face. "Is that smell coming from you? You need a dip in the pool or something."

The minotaur pressed his face against the Sphere, hot breath slightly fogging its view. The small Egyptian boy flashed a toothy grin and sat back with his legs crossed underneath him.

"If you don't shut it, I'll plunge you into those crates."

I eyed the crates. No doubt the smell was coming from there. I wonder if this is where Abraham kept his seafood. Not very sanitary if I may point out. If it were up to me, the Health Inspection would be giving out one star review for Abraham's seafood dump.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I think I've had enough of fish for at least a century. What about you? Do you mind Abraham?"

The minotaur turned from me, giving me his back. I suppose he was given strict orders to not communicate with the prisoner. I decided to challenge that.

"Must really suck to work in Prague with all this fish stench, ya' know? How do you do it? I didn't really mind Prague until I visited a few years back. I got framed over something my master and I didn't really even do. I mean, can you believe that? We were just there doing our official government work and some jerk – the mercenary, big bearded dude with _annoying_ seven-league boots – do you know him by the way? I feel like he's somehow involved in this. Hopkins too. Is Abraham –"

"STOP TALKING!"

A great fist made physical contact with the Sphere. The Sphere rang loudly like a bell upon impact but did not budge. I grimaced and placed my hands over my ears to muffle the high-pitched ringing. I could feel the wavelengths of the ringing within the Sphere pressuring down on my essence. With a punch like that, the ringing could continue on for another half hour.

"Hey, cool it man! I'm just vibing here."

"I'm going to be vibing your skull if you don't shut up." He raised his fist again, threatening to punch the Sphere again.

"That doesn't make sense but I somehow understand what you meant."

The ringing continued, filling the cellar room with its awful sound. The minotaur snorted. Bits of spittle and snot landed on the Sphere. I looked about me.

There wasn't much. The cellar seemed cramped. Large stacks of crates were stacked haphazardly throughout the room meaning they were tripping hazards. They could also be used as weapons, I suppose. The contents inside could surely wipe out an entire village. I figured we were deep underground due to the lack of windows which made escaping extremely difficult since it narrowed down my options. The only way out is through the heavy wooden door that looked like it may take time to open. A quick explosion to the door could fix that problem though. But that information is useless if I can't get out of this Sphere.

The minotaur towered over me, keeping a keen eye. No doubt he's making sure I don't somehow spring out of the Sphere. Escaping the Sphere is no problem. I've had way too many experiences being in one and I've learned a couple of tricks. It's just a little difficult when you're being watched by someone that can crush you with a toe. My essence is barely hanging on. I'm too weak and the little fiasco from before drained a chunk of my energy. I can't really afford to spend any more of my remaining energy. And I need to find Nat. I need time and a distraction. Thankfully, I have no problem with getting either of them.

I cleared my throat. "Care to tell me what Abraham plans to do with me?"

The minotaur shifted, eyeing me suspiciously. "To destroy you."

"Hm."

That was obvious enough. His rousing speech at the dinner table didn't really sound empathetic towards Nat and I.

"Any gory details?" I implored.

He sniffed and bent down by the waist to my eye level. He gave a toothy grin.

"Would you like to remain ignorant over your fate or are you _really_ interested in knowing of his plans?"

I chewed the inside of my cheek, weighing my options.

"Tell me."

Dark, heavy eyebrows scrunched together as the minotaur narrowed its eyes.

"This is a ruse, isn't it Bartimaeus? You cannot fool me. I know of your tricks."

I raised an eyebrow, resting my face against the palm of hand.

"Nah, I just don't like being left in the dark. And have you really? Am I famous or something? Do they have billboards with my face plastered in the Other Place?"

"You're an idiot."

"I've been told."

The minotaur snorted but said nothing. After a moment of a silent stare down, he finally straightened his back and looked back at the cellar door.

"In a few short hours, just before your master meets his end, Abraham will come down to the cellar and step through that door. You will gaze upon him and learn to fear him. That is the last thing you will see before you meet your end."

Yeesh. A bit dramatic for my taste but I got some information. I decided to pry a little bit more.

"How will I die?"

"The Sphere that you are currently inhabiting will be descended slowly into a vat of boiling silver."

At this, the minotaur chuckled and sighed in a satisfactory manner. He nodded to himself with a smile on his beasty face. Clearly, he was imagining the scenario unfold.

"Hmm… Won't that be the last thing I see then?"

"What?"

"The boiling vat of silver."

"What of it?"

"Well, earlier you said that the last thing I'll see is Abraham walking into the room. But I'm going to see the silver. So… how will that work out?"

The minotaur paused. You could practically hear the gears in his brain working overdrive. He sputtered for a minute as I subtly inspected the walls of Sphere. Archaic magic confinement like the Sphere of Confinement usually have some kind of flaw that can be easily exploited. Which says a lot about Abraham. I took a mental note of it.

"No!" The minotaur spat out. A bit of drool dribbled over his chapped lips. "Abraham will be the last thing you'll see because you'll be afraid."

"Huh?"

"You'll keep your eyes closed."

"Oh. But what if I don't?"

Growling, he kicked the bottom of my Sphere. Instantly, the already tapering ringing was replaced by the renewed sharp high-pitched sound . I resisted the urge to cover my ears and listened. The pressure of the sound weighed me down. I could feel it vibrating within stirring my essence from the inside out. My Ptolemy guise slipped a bit; my outline blurred for several seconds before finding its shape back. To my left, just above my head, I felt and heard a minute-sized gap. Bingo.

"Okay, I'm sorry, bro. I'll close my eyes before he gets here. You got a mirror? I think I'd prefer that the last thing I see is myself."

"I am not your brother."

"So no mirror, _amigo?"_

"I am not your friend."

"Not even a pocket mirror, partner?"

While this tantalizing conversation was going, I carefully inspected the side of the Sphere with the gap. Upon closer inspection, I could see the lattice work of thousands of thin, powerful strands that was carefully placed together to form the Sphere of Confinement. To the naked eye of many mediocre magicians, this lattice work would look perfect. Each of the strands went over and under each other forming a tight nonpermeable wall. But I spotted a mistake. A single strand was left unchecked.

"STOP with the words of endearment," the minotaur shouted over the ringing. "I have no time or space for the endearing titles. Endearment makes one weak. _You_ are weak. Your sacrifice for the magician did not go unnoticed. Your endearment towards the magician has made you _frail and lowly._ I am strong. I am cold and calculating. I have no time and space for the endearment."

The minotaur huffed and faced the door. He tapped his hooves against the floor impatiently.

"Soon, master will come to end you. But I will live on for I am strong."

I hesitated. "Ye-e-eah… Okaaay…"

Something about this screamed 'hitting a sensitive and sore nerve'. I stealthily shifted and leaned closer towards the gap. I blew out a subdued breath towards the gap. Silently, the strands surrounding the gap began to undo. In just a few short minutes, the lattice work of the Sphere would slacken, and I can bust through. But what the hell do I do with this lickspittle?

"I guess there's no mirror –"

"I have loved once."

"Eh?"

"Pudding… That's what she called me. It has been years since I've last seen her elegant tentacles. Her beauty… It was something no one else could behold for if they glance at her way, death came their way. She was graceful – no – _she_ was grace itself."

I stole a glance at the gap. It was still slowly unraveling. I slowly prayed it would quicken. The minotaur suddenly turned to face me, eyes brimming with tears. A spark of hate could be seen seething within.

"A magician tore her away from me," he continued, shouting against the Sphere's walls. "He ripped her away from me. And now she is gone. No more words of endearment. No… no more Pudding."

I licked my lips. "If it is any consolation, I understand your feeling. It took me a long while to accept –"

"I WILL NOT ACCEPT." His roaring words echoed throughout the room.

I shrunk back away. The last thing I need is for the minotaur to slam his fist against the Sphere. With the lattice work already weakening by the second, the sound of the feeble ringing would give the gap away. I just need a few more seconds. But then what?

The minotaur turned his back towards me. His back muscles were tense and I could see them twitch. No doubt he was fighting the urge to do something to me. I kept quiet to prevent any kind of provoking. Taking a quick glance at the gap, I could see that the walls were weakening. I shifted and prepared myself. In a few seconds, the walls will be weak enough for me to tear through. I'll just have to somehow dodge my captor, bust a hole through the door, and find my Nathaniel. Just a few more seconds…

"Who did you love, Bartimaeus?"

His voice was somber. He barely spoke above a whisper.

"That guise you wear. Is he the one? Is that why you ask for the mirror? Is he the last face you would want to see, Bartimaeus?"

Note from the Author:

I apologize for the late update. Work has been hectic and hasn't really given me a break to just sit down and write. I'm going to be traveling again for work for the next three weeks. I'm going to try to have some down time to update again but we'll see how it'll go.

This is my first time writing anything like this and I'm enjoying the process.

Thanks for your patience!


	17. Jar of Oyster

_Nathaniel_

Alec whistled as he kicked the splintered wood among the destruction.

"Your demon made a mess out of this dining experience." He chuckled, hands in pockets.

Nathaniel swallowed but did not speak. He tugged at the thick rope that wrapped around his wrist, cutting deep into his skin. He winced in pain but continued to tug silently, hoping that the rope would give in. He avoided facing Alec. Instead, he focused on himself. His smart suit was now a stained and crumpled mess. He was caked in food and dust debris. Somehow, in the middle of the chaos, he had lost a shoe. He imagined he looked pitiful. Especially bound and slumped with exhaustion against the dirty wall. Exhaustion had to wait. He had to get out. He pried his wrist apart, feeling the scratchy rope bite into his raw skin.

"You know you're only hurting yourself, right?"

Alec was now standing over him, hands on hip. He clicked his tongue in a disapproving manner.

"It's gonna take a little bit more than a weak tugging to get out of those. And even if you did manage to get out of it, you'd have to deal with me."

Nathaniel felt the first trickle of frustration build within him but quelled it down. He will not allow Alec to get a rise out of him. As much as he hated to admit it, Alec was right. He was far too weak to fight back. If he was able to break free, which was highly unlikely, he would have to somehow overpower the much taller teen. He needed Bartimaeus.

_Damn it._

Nathaniel gritted his teeth. He hated seeing how lifeless the djinn looked. Even when weak, after long periods of summoning, Bartimaeus _never_ appeared that… gone. He was always full of life; a pure burning fire that refused to be put out, no matter the situation he's been put through. But just then… his fire was snuffed out.

_I'll find you. I promise._

"Knock, knock!"

Anne stepped into the room surveying the area. Stefan followed close behind, a childish tune of a whistle escaping his lips.

"Is that it?" Alec asked.

"Yup, I brought it!" Anne gleefully chuckled. In her hands, she carried a small, discolored jar. The jar contained a small gray and blue mass. Nathaniel gulped, averting his eyes from the jar. Poisoned oyster. Sure enough, they were going to make him eat it. He instinctively tightened his lips.

_They're going to have to pry my jaw open for that to happen._

Stefan stepped around Anne, snatching the jar from her hands as she protested. In a few quick strides, he stood in front of Nathaniel, shoving Alec aside. The teen bent down towards Nathaniel, sneeringly shaking the jar and its contents in front of the magician's face.

"You see this Johnny boy? It's your last meal!"

Nathaniel snapped. "Don't you three have a failing drug enterprise to attend to!? Seeing that you murdered your only customers with your shitty product."

Alec shifted; a smart fist connected Nathaniel's jaw. Nathaniel's vision blurred. His jaw now ached.

"Watch yourself, _magician_," Alec spat out. "I would have killed you too if Abraham didn't want to do it himself."

Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut, biting back his pained cries. It'll do no good to cry out in pain in front of enemies. He had to prove he was strong. He was a magician. Born and raised in London. He's been through hell and back when he was just a kid. He can handle this.

_Can I without Bartimaeus?_

He had to. Flexing his aching jaw, Nathaniel tugged at the ropes once again. The three teens were now bickering amongst themselves, fighting over who could keep the jar safe and who would hand it over to Abraham. It seemed they really admired Abraham. But _who _was he exactly? He's well-known in Prague and had some influence in parts of Europe. His main motivation is to kill magicians as revenge for Prague. But where does he fit with the rest of the story?

"_Ahem._"

All at once, Nathaniel and the three teens looked up towards the open door. Abraham entered the room. Although he limped and relied heavily on his cane, he exuded power and confidence. His gaze were honed in on Nathaniel, a friendless smile spreading across his face. Nathaniel felt vulnerable. He shrunk back against the wall.

Abraham paused a few meters away. "Have my companions talked to you about our plans?"

Nathaniel said nothing.

"Still not talking, eh?" Abraham shrugged in a rather disappointing manner. "Very well then. It should make all of this go by much faster –"

"Are you Hopkins?" Nathaniel's voice sounded rough and childish compared to the older man's. He silently cursed at himself.

"Who?"

"Hopkins. The person behind the Gladstone's raid and desecrating his grave. The one helping the Resistance."

"Desecrating _Gladstone's_ _grave_? Now _that_ is something I wish I could be a part of." Abraham chuckled. He leaned into his cane, eager for more. "Did this Hopkins organize this?"

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek.

"If you're not Hopkins, then do you know the mercenary?"

"You mean Alec? I wouldn't really call them mercenary, just children supplying the death."

Nothing was adding up. Nathaniel took a deep breath, calming his building his frustrations.

"If you're not Hopkins and you don't know the mercenary, then who the hell are _you_?"

"I've already told you, _boy. _I am Abraham," he replied with a sneer.

"What is _your_ part with the Resistance?"

The older man grinned as he leaned against his cane, bending closer towards Nathaniel. His voice dropped low and soft, almost purring. Nathaniel had to strain to catch his words.

"I was the same as those fools that prattle along London. Weak and powerless. Everything I did was heavily scrutinized by the magicians. Prague is defenseless. We have no power here, not after what the magicians have done to this great city. A few years ago, there was news of a young London magician running around with a demon in the guise of an Egyptian boy planting a bomb in the heart of Prague –"

"That was a lie!" Nathaniel interjected. "We were framed for that! We were here to investigate—"

Abraham swung his cane sharply towards Nathaniel. Nathaniel felt the sharp burning sting along his side as the cane made contact. He blinked back the tears.

"Interrupt me again and I'll slap you across the face. _You_ were here to make us look like fools, boy. _You_ couldn't control your small commoner problem in London and decided to take out your frustrations out on _us_."

Nathaniel wanted to shout back. Everything the old man was saying was all wrong. Everything was wrong. Abraham stepped back and reached a free hand out towards the three teens. Stefan gingerly opened the jar with a simple twisting motion and placed it in Abraham's waiting hand. Alec and Anne stood back, bouncing at the balls of their feet.

"I knew I had to do something to take care of you magicians," Abraham continued as he eyed the contents in the jar with great interest. "It was difficult at first. I had to learn the magic arts. I had to fight fire with fire. I learned how to draw a pentacle and how to properly summon a demon. I had to travel to London and talk to several of the commoners. One boy, I believe his name was Sweathers, even provided me a copy of several magical books. In return, I funded him and his group."

Nathaniel paused. _Sweathers_. He was the leader of the Resistance group that attacked the Minister's party.

"You're a commoner. You were meeting with Sweathers?" Nathaniel's mind swirled. "He wasn't meeting Hopkins?"

Abraham sighed. "I've already told you. I don't know this Hopkins. Now –"

He whistled. In an instant, the three teens surrounded Nathaniel, taking a hold of his limbs tightly. They lifted him up on his feet and, with a handful of his hair, yanked his head back. Nathaniel struggled in their grasp, but they held on tight. Abraham closed the distance, grinning gleefully.

"Open your mouth. The poison will work slowly but it will make your death look _accidental_. Death by bad oysters don't seem suspicious, after all. After you've eaten the oyster, we will take you to your demon. We'll make sure the last thing you'll see is the wretched demon's disintegrating essence."

"You're a cunt."

Abraham shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Insults will do you no good, boy. The more you resist, the more I'll make sure your demon suffers."

Nathaniel's stomach tightened, his heart dropping heavy like a stone. He could still see the djinn's lifeless body in his mind's eye. Even if he ever found a way to escape and be safe, the image will always haunt him. Nathaniel attempted one last struggle; the teens' grip tightened on him painfully. Outnumbered and outpowered. There was no way he could escape. But he will not die without a fight.

"I doubt that, Abraham." His voice quivered but he put on a brave face. He had to look convincing. "In fact, at this moment, I would bet money that Bartimaeus has found a way. He always had a knack for escapism."

Abraham threw back his head, a great roaring laughter spilling out and filling the echoing room.

"Even if he did escape, he's _far_ too weak to do anything. My demon will just crush him like the insect pest that he is."

Nathaniel licked his lip. All he had to do is place a seed of doubt. Maybe then he would get a fighting chance.

"Is that what you think?"

For a brief moment, a subtle look of uncertainty flashed across the older man's face. Just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Abraham tightened his grip around the jar and stepped closer. It took everything from Nathaniel to not shrink back. He could smell the sweat mixing with the peppermint aftershave wafting from his captor. His head swam with potential escape plans but nothing guaranteed him safety. None of them guaranteed Bartimaeus's safety. None of them were good enough.

"Open. Up." Abraham growled. His words practically dripped with venom.

A hand grasping the back of his head yanked back. Nathaniel cried out but quickly clamped his jaws shut. Tears began to form but he didn't care.

_I_ _just need time._

Note from Author:

So sorry for the delay. Work has been keeping me so busy and it makes me want to die lol

With the current coronavirus situation going on, I'll be teleworking from home so I should have more time to write again 3

Thanks for sticking around and reading. Stay safe everyone and wash your hands!


	18. The Escape

_Bartimaeus_

I wasn't sure on how to respond. I've spent years hiding my grief in fits of anger and rage. I've licked my wounds as I killed every magician I could get my hands on. I've buried away every happy memory I've had with him. I wanted to let him go. Ever part of my essence yearned to be free from this pain. To forget it all. But his name never left my lips. His presence still burned with life. I still carried his face wherever I went. I saw him in everything and everyone. I could feel him every time I stretched my wings and the light gust of wind ruffled my feather. I could hear him in the soothing pitter-patter of rain as it hit the concrete. I could see him in the young girl, Kitty, with her fierce determination to make things right. I could see him in Nathaniel. My Nathaniel.

The minotaur shifted. He raised a clawed hand and rubbed his snout.

"I've opened up to you, Bartimaeus. I would like to hear about this person whose form you wear."

I scoffed. It wasn't his tone that bothered me. He was respectable enough in his own way, I suppose. No, it was his entitlement. His entitlement to something completely personal. To something that I've spent years closing myself off to. Centuries that were spent to not remember_. A millennium._

I changed my form to a winged Sumerian. An old form I once favored in my youth.

"I don't want to talk about this."

The djinn snorted. "What? I've told you of my great love. You must repay that."

I inspected my feathers. "Says who? Who says that the form I had was anything?"

"So he was no one?"

"He was no one."

The words felt reprehensible on my lips. Evidently, the minotaur could sense my discomfort. His thick brows furrowed as he peered into the Sphere. I rolled my eyes and gave him the finger.

"It would be great if you respected other's privacy, ya' know?" I sneered.

This was now a problem. As long as he's watching me, I can't leave the Sphere just yet. The perfect opportunity to escape is when his back is turned against me. With him watching my every move, he could snatch me before I even completed my pounce. I need him to look away.

"Now, Bartimaeus. That's not very nice of you. I've told you about –"

"I didn't fucking ask for it, dude." I interjected, staring daggers. "You went on some random ass rant and I was just unfortunate enough to hear it because, get this, I'm _stuck_ inside this thing."

"Was his name Ptolemy? Sounds Egyptian enough. It matches the form."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose and sighed loudly. "Listen, can you just stop? I'm not interested in having a conversation with you anymore. You _had_ to ruin it."

The minotaur blinked. After a few moments, he nodded silently as if he understood the situation. He straightened his back and looked around the room. He paused for a moment and grunted. Before I knew it, he reached out and grabbed the nearest crate. To my great annoyance, he tossed the crate a few feet from where I sat and plopped himself down on top of it. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling.

"Are you seriously going to sit and watch me for the next hour or so?"

With an elbow on a knee and his great big head leaning against the palm of his claw, he grunted approvingly. I could feel him trying to search for any kind of weakness into my essence with his prodding eyes.

This clearly wasn't going to go exactly how I wanted. I casually glanced at the gap in the lattice work of the Sphere. It was weak. I could easily squeeze through without a problem. But I'd need a different strategy to shake this guy off. It was a wonder the fool hadn't spotted it yet. But I'm not one to insult others intelligence if the lack of it gives me an advantage, right? I should be kissing the feet of the higher beings that hastily scrambled his IQ during his creation.

"Get your master. I'm bored already and I could do with a good dip in silver."

To prove my point, I gave my Sumerian form some swimming trunks. They were blue, if you must know. They complemented the skin tone.

He laughed, shaking his head in an incredulous manner. "Are you that suicidal? Highly doubt that, Bartimaeus."

"What if I talked shit about your – uh - Pudding, was it? Would you get him then?"

His brows knotted together, tightening his gruesome face. His upper lip curled revealing his fangs.

"I'd think twice about that."

I blew out my cheeks. "Guess I have no choice though, right?"

"One word and you will be dead."

Looking at him, I could tell he was _very _upset with me. His eyes glowed a nasty yellow underneath the dark heavy brows. Saliva were beginning to drip from his fangs as steam escaped through his nostril. Even with his hunched over state, I could still see his muscles tensing with restraint. He's too strong for me to take on a one on one battle with. I glanced at his right arm. He was struggling.

Here's the deal. Ideally, I would make him upset enough that he would stomp his hooved feet all the way to his master. It'd be a perfect plan to escape quietly and have a direct route to Abraham and my Nathaniel. But a quick look at his state, it seemed it wasn't going to go that way. One more word from me, and he's going to smash the Sphere. The compromised Sphere will give out, and boom: there goes my sneaky plan. If I wait for Abraham, my chances of escape will go down exponentially.

I tapped my fingers against my leg and weighed my options. Guess I have no other choice.

"She probably deserved it."

His right fist swung; I pounced and squeezed through the gap. Landing among the crates, the sound of glass shattering erupted behind me. I didn't wait to get a good look; I casted a Detonation, blowing up the only door. In a matter of seconds, I slipped out and was running along a dark hallway. Behind me, a roar followed by blasts and explosion could be heard.

"BARTIMAEUS!"

I glanced over my shoulder and dodged; a Detonation whizzed past me. I threw one back, merely missing him. Ahead of me, the hallway split into two. I took the right and stayed close along the wall, evading his next attack by inches. The walls shook with the impact. Small bits of stone and dust showered behind me. It was too dark to make out exactly what was ahead of me. Every once in awhile, our Detonation gave us enough light to avoid collision with random furniture that decorated the grim hallway. I took an abrupt left turn into another hallway and crashed into a pure silver decorative knight statue. Wincing, I stumbled back onto my feet. A flash of light flew over my head, singing a few strands of my dark curls. I threw a Spasm over my shoulder without looking; thunderous hooves sounded close behind me. I couldn't help it; I looked back. There he was, claws smoking, slipping and scrabbling among the scattered pieces of walls that he'd blown apart. Another flash; I plunged down onto the ground evading the attack. With the brief second of light, I spotted, just a little ahead, a large wooden beam on the ceiling supporting the structure of the building. How much did it support? Well, it was time to find out.

Scrambling back to my feet, I raised a hand; a Detonation blasted the wooden beam. I stretched my wings for extra speed, and jumped. Pieces of wood and stone came crashing down. I twisted sideways, slipping right underneath the demolition. I spun aside, and casted another blast towards the crumbling hallway.

The minotaur was much faster than I thought. Just as the walls closed down upon him, pinning him down, a blast erupted from his claws. A burst of pain burned up my leg. My balance went; I went crumpling down onto the ground hard. Even with the building collapsing onto him, the minotaur continued to fight. A claw came out among the debris, scrambling its way out.

"Fuck, dude." I called, picking myself up with difficulty. My leg was immobilized.

"Bartimaeus – I _will_ kill you myself." The minotaur's outraged whisper was muffled underneath the debris.

I didn't wait to find out how. I continued running, limping down the hallway. This was the hard part; finding my way out. Right, time to retrace my steps. I left the Sphere, went through the door, down the hall and took a right. After much running, I took left. I can't go back to where I just came from. Ahead is all that I have. To my right, the hallway opened up, revealing steep stairs. If I'm in the basement, then going up is the best way to go.

I heard a crash behind me; I don't have much time. I stomped up the stairs, ignoring the pain in my leg. A casted a small flame in the palm of hand to give me light. It flickered weakly, fighting against the humid air. At the top of the stairs, I paused. Left or right.

I listened carefully, stilling my breathing. Right below me, more crashing. Somehow, I knew my little trap wouldn't last long. The minotaur was gaining on me in distance. If he goes up the steps, I'm going into the right direction. An idea struck me. Snuffing out my flame, I changed my form into a small bat and hid into the darkest corner of the hallway's ceiling and waited.

The minotaur stormed up the stairs, leaving behind a trail of dust and debris and hooved prints. At the top of the steps, he paused, craning his neck this way and that. I shrunk back into the shadows, desperately hoping. After a moment, he growled and set himself off, taking a right turn. I let out a quiet breath. Time to follow him.

I fluttered a few meters behind him, taking great care to stick in the shadows. His impatience and rage had completely taken over him. He could have easily spotted me if he just took the time to think about his plan. But like I said earlier, I should be thanking whoever made this fool an idiot. This way and that, up the stairs and another left turn. I followed close behind, watching his every movement. Every once in awhile, he would pause and listen. Then he would sprint towards his destination as I struggled to follow close behind. Just as I was beginning to worry that he was taking us around in circles, he finally paused in front of a door. He clenched his fist, and took a deep breath. His rage was suddenly gone. He resembled a mewling kitten. Insults would have to wait, though. In the shadows, I waited.

He raised a claw and hesitated. Licking his lips, he gingerly knocked on the door.

A voice called out. Abraham's voice.

"What is it now? Open the door yourself. I'm busy with this wretched boy."

With great care, the minotaur opened the door, keeping his eyes on the floor. I tensed my muscles. _Wretched boy._ That was _my wretched boy. _Nathaniel is close. I crept closer, trying to get a peek of the room beyond the door.

"Bartimaeus has escaped."

"WHAT!?"

Abraham's words filled the room, his rage echoing. My bat ears shivered; the minotaur took a step back and bowed.

"I'll find him master," he replied, his voice quivering in fear.

I heard the magician scream in fury. Then I heard a thump and a yelp. _Nathaniel._

During moments like this, I don't really think. It's not often when I lose my cool in such a way. In fact, it's only happened to me a couple of times during my lifetime. All my collected pent-up rage and frustration culminating into one big messy blob within me. I don't think; I just act. From within the shadows, the small black bat was replaced with a leather-winged, hissing four-legged serpent. I plunged through the door frame, slipping right past the minotaur's grasp, and lunged at the magician with all my might. I made sure every ounce of venom I had in me dripped from my fangs.


	19. Swallow

_Nathaniel_

Nathaniel stumbled for a brief second; the firm grip around him kept him up on his feet. His vision swirled and his left cheek ached. He suddenly tasted copper. It took everything in him to not close his eyes. Everything hurt. He could feel bruises forming along his arms and sides, his lip was split open, and his head pounded. Every breath he took pained him. They showed no mercy.

Unlike magicians, commoners fought dirty. He'd learned this with his several encounters with the Resistance. From theft, bombings, assassinations, and drugs. With fear and hatred, they attacked like the mob. A lone magician stood no chance against an army of scrappers. He needed Bartimaeus.

Stefan's voice shouted just above his ear.

"Now, open wide."

Abraham pressed a bloodied hand to Nathaniel's cheek. Nathaniel winced and wretched his face free. There was a soft buzzing in his head, as if his brain was replaced with a TV static.

Stefan's voice sounded just above his ear. It sounded so loud, yet so distant.

"Abraham – you need to stop. If you keep beating him, then there's no point in using the oyster. He already looks like he could be –"

"If I needed your opinion, Stefan, I would have asked for one." Abraham spat, glaring. "No one will find him. He'll be missing –"

"But – "

"INTERRUPT ME AGAIN AND I'LL FORCE-FEED YOU THIS OYSTER MYSELF."

The tension was palpable. Nathaniel couldn't focus. The pain was almost too much for him to bear. His arms were going numb now and he could hardly keep himself up. He couldn't tell if he could move his fingers. It all just felt numb. The buzzing in his head continued. The voices became more muffled. He strained to listed to their exchanges. One teen jerked him to the right, the other to the left. The man in front of him took hold of his face.

_Maybe if I just closed my eyes… everything will be done. _

Nathaniel swayed; his mind flickered. A hand yanked his hair back. If it hurt, he didn't feel it. He blinked, trying to focus his vision. The dark spots in the corners of his eyes grew and a swirl of colors blossomed in view. The buzzing in his head made him feel heavy. Tried as he might, he couldn't focus on the older man that stood in front of him.

Rough fingernails pried his jaw open; a plump, cold sensation slipped into his mouth. It sat heavy on the top of his tongue. The texture –

Nathaniel retched. A calloused hand slammed his mouth shut, forcing the poisoned oyster back into his mouth. Hot liquid spewed through his nose and between Abraham's fingers. The nausea clawed at his throat. His stomach contracted even more, forcing everything up and out.

"I'll make you eat your own vomit, _boy."_ Abraham growled. "_Swallow._"

His throat and nose burned. Choking, he coughed violently. As he struggled to take in a breath, the stench of vomit was almost too much. His stomach convulsed again; more bile and stomach content came up. Hot tears began to form and burn his eyes. Everything hurt.

The buzzing was becoming overwhelming.

_I just need to sleep. All of this will go away…_

There was a muffled exchange; the teens shifted position.

_Where are you, Bartimaeus?_

Someone yanked his right arm back; an audible pop sounded. Suddenly, his vision filled with bright red. Muffled screams replaced the room's tense silence. He screamed into the older man's hands, vomit still spewing out. The buzzing in his head became louder, drowning out his own screams. He could hear nothing but the buzzing. He could see nothing but black and red. His legs buckled; his head fell forward as his eyelids fluttered shut. All at once, he felt nothing. No pain, no tears, no anguish. The last thing he felt was something slippery slipping down his throat.


	20. Overpowered

_Bartimaeus_

_Because I didn't think_, nothing really went exactly how I wanted it to go. But so far, the day has been exactly on theme anyways. So, I really should have expected that.

The winged-serpent's body shot out of the doorway, narrowly dodging the minotaur's grasp. My fangs were ready to sink four inches deep into the old man's throat. I heard a panicked shout; there was a blur of movement. In a second, my body collided with human flesh. Limbs thrashed around me; nails desperately scraping my scales. I wrapped my body around my prey, using my wings to fend off any attacks. More shouts and screams sounded. Underneath me, there was a muffled scream as I sank my fangs into my victim's neck. I could feel him convulse as I tightened my grip.

The serpent's eyes opened and peeked. And paused. Abraham was on the other end of the room, crawling back up to his feet. Confused, I released my victim and took a good look at him. Alec.

His face was already turning pale, and his lips moved as if mouthing something. His panicked eyes were already glazing over and his free hand raked at his neck where I had just bitten. It was already too late. The damage was done. I glanced back up at Abraham. He was shouting an order to the perplexed minotaur. I heard a movement to my right; Stefan and Anne dragging a badly-shaped Nathaniel across the floor. He didn't seem to be fighting back. A sinking feeling hit the pit of my essence.

I hopped off Alec; an Inferno blasted to my left. The impact of the blast knocked me off my feet; I changed form. The winged-serpent became a serval. Bad choice but I need to move quick and stay low on the ground. My injured leg had some time to recover while I was stalking the minotaur but it was still a liability. I jumped; a Detonation blasted just where I had been standing. The minotaur made a grabbing motion. I ducked his reaching claws and pounced underneath his legs, taking a mean swipe at his thighs. His essence ripped beneath my claws; the minotaur howled and took a step back. I let out a hiss as he raised a hoof and stomped.

I changed forms again; a great Phoenix erupted in flames and soared just above the minotaur's head. Sharp sickled-like talons that glimmered in the light made their way down towards the other djinn's eyes. The minotaur raised an arm, blocking and protecting its face. Talons sunk deep into the flesh, ripping the essence. I took a quick glance back at where Nathaniel had been. They were still struggling to move his body. He was limp; his head rolled with the motion. A sinking feeling of desperation clung onto me.

I had to think. If I go after Nathaniel now and somehow rescued him, they'll chase me down and capture us both. There's no way I could outmaneuver the minotaur again. Even now I struggle. Abraham may even send reinforcements to chase after us. Even if we hid, they'll find us –

_The sealed door bulged. I looked back at Ptolemy. He was hurt, leaning against the wall. His frail body shivered from the loss of blood. All around us, snarls and gnashing teeth could be heard. They've found us and we won't make it._

_No_.

I shook my head clear. I don't plan on making the same mistake twice. Abraham had to go – now. Kill two birds with one stone. Wipe out Abraham, the minotaur disappears, the teens will scatter and Nathaniel will be safe. That is the best and _only_ option I have.

I flapped my fiery wings once; great clawing hands reached out, tearing my burning tail-feathers to shreds as I twisted in midair.

"Give up, Bartimaeus!" The minotaur rumbled as he took another swipe at me.

I spun aside, darted, and rolled over in midair. I swooped every now and then, using my claws and beaks to tear into him bit by bit. I was wasting time. Flying erratically, I took a quick glance towards Abraham. He was shouting at the teens, arms gesturing about. It was now or never.

A buffet of air; a flash of fiery light making their way towards the old man. A great big shadow appeared from below; I twisted sideways just a little too late. A burst of pain as one of the claws cut through one wing. I lost my aerodynamic; I tumbled down onto the ground and landed inelegantly on my side. Scarily enough, my energy dropped. I quickly inspected my wing; essence flowed through my wings, dampening the fire of my feathers. This isn't good.

"I said give up!"

Without giving me a chance to breathe, the minotaur charged right at me, horns at the ready. This was going to hurt.

I changed my form for the final time; Ptolemy scrambled to his feet. To delay the impact, I fired an Enervation over my shoulder. I overshot my aim; it merely grazed him. Still, it was enough to give me time. Just one hit. Ahead of me, I raised a hand and aimed it towards Abraham. His narrowed eyes were fixed on me. There was anger and fear. I held on to my desperation. I shouldn't be able to miss. I can't be able to miss. I can't _afford_ to miss. From my fingers, sparks of fire formed.

At the same time, he snapped his fingers.

A rushing sound to my left; a blur of movement. I reacted too late. I collided with something big; my body jerked. The sparks in my hand fizzled out. My essence contracted with such force that I felt myself fold and unravel frantically. My limbs flailed, seeking and searching for anything that might slow down the forward movement. I found nothing. Every bit of my essence collided against the floor. For a moment, I was nothing but scattered bits like a wave of chaotic atoms tossed into the void. My mind flickered. I held on, recollecting every bit of myself and reshaped my guise. Everything fell back into place, including the pain. A heavy weight sat on my chest, forcing me to stay down. Blinking away my disorientation, I gazed up at my captor.

"_Hello, Bartimaeus._ We meet again."

"M-_Maduk_?" I paused. "No, _no_."

The great lion's head bowed down and smiled, bearing its fangs for me.

"Ah, you remember me?" He purred, a low rumbling that I could feel vibrate my weakened essence. My guise slipped a bit as I struggled to free myself from his grip.

"Isn't this funny?" He continued, pawing my arm. "That guise you wear – it looks oddly familiar, don't you think? So frail. So defeated. You were there, yes? I thought I had already killed that boy before."

"_Shut the hell up_," I spat. I twisted my hand, palm towards the lion. Before I could cast a Detonation, Maduk shifted. A sickle-like claw appeared a few centimeters from my exposed throat. I hesitated.

"Should I tell you how the boy died? He must have meant so much to you since – you know – you wear his guise. Come to think of it, I think I can recount Affa's death, as well. He died protecting the small, weak magician. Isn't that _funny_? Is _that_ what you're going to do now, Bartimaeus? You've failed the first time. What makes you think it'll work out the second time?"

Overpowered, they call it. Such a simple word for an overwhelming feeling. My sense of self, once prideful, was now as bruised as my poor essence. My energy sagged, my body couldn't stay in formation without slipping, I couldn't muster enough energy in me to change forms again. My anger and desperation clung onto me. I was overpowered. Once again, weak.

_Affa stayed behind with Teti. Like great beasts in the sky, they fought back with all their might. Several enemy djinns attacked sporadically left and right. Penrenutet and I scrambled over the market's stalls, taking great care of the young magician in my arms. An explosion could be heard. We paused. After a moment, he looked at me, face stiff as stone. _

"_They won't make it."_

"_What?" I looked over my shoulder. Sure enough, Affa and Teti were struggling. They were strong and intelligent. But overpowered. They were just too many of them. And they caught us by surprise. We weren't prepared. I looked down at my arms. Ptolemy was so frail. His breathing was shallow, and his paling face twisted in pain. _

_I looked back up at Penrenutet. I understood what he meant. I nodded. _

"_Go."_

"_Please protect him, Bartimaeus."_

"_I will with my life. Just give me time. He will live on."_

"Maduk – Enough."

Abraham's voice was clear as day but had the force of a thunderous lightning strike. I blinked, and shook my head. Maduk snorted but complied. He sat back, still using his weight to keep me pinned. To my left, the minotaur stood over the lion and I. There's no escape from this. Outnumbered and overpowered.

I looked at Abraham and froze.

"No – no, no. Please no. _Please._ I'm not one to beg, but _please not like this._" I pleaded.

Nathaniel was slumped against the man, head back revealing his exposed throat. In his hand, Abraham held something shiny and sharp. A knife. The blade caught the light as he raised it towards Nathaniel's neck.

I panicked. "No! Just –"

The lion growled at me; the minotaur stomped his hoof near my head. I ignored them. I couldn't tear my eyes off of the blade. A familiar feeling of reeking despair crept up on me. I felt my insides turn; I was losing control of my essence. Abraham chuckled at my state. Beside him, Anne and Stefan cradled Alec's body. That didn't matter to me. Nothing else mattered but Nathaniel.

"You _are_ persistent. You and the boy," he gestured, waving the knife between Nathaniel and I. "Even killed my Alec. Unfortunately, I'm getting _very_ impatient. It'll take some time before the poison takes effect, and seeing how the events unfolded… well, I think I'd want to get this over with."

The blade glinted in the light; Abraham pressed the knife against Nathaniel's throat.

"No! Please, _please, stop!"_

Abraham flashed a toothy grin.

"Once I'm done with him, I'll summon you and finish you myself."

I squirmed underneath Maduk's grip; the lion issued out a warning snarl, teeth gnashing inches from my face. I could feel it's hot breath, and the stench of corpse. But still, I couldn't tear my eyes off Nathaniel. He seemed… so weak. So frail.

Abraham tightened his grip on the hilt of the knife, and gave me one final smile.


	21. Exploding Interruption

_Bartimaeus_

There was a distant sound of explosion – the ground shook beneath us. Abraham halted, blinking. Maduk raised his head, sniffing the air. Both the minotaur and I held our breaths.

I heard a shriek – Anne stumbling past a bewildered Stefan towards the door. Abraham moved.

As if the gods have blessed me with incredible timing, a great force erupted from the walls. Magic crashed through and flowed its way into the room like a great overflowing river. From the smoke and debris, a djinn appeared. She took shape of a built woman with arms that could tear limbs apart, her red skin glistening with sweat.

I didn't care who she was or where she came from. I just took this as an opportunity. I twisted sideways; my uninjured leg kicked up and successfully launched the lion over my head. As he flew, just before slamming against the wall headfirst, Maduk cursed and took a swipe at me. He missed by just a hair's length. I stuck out my tongue in a crude childish manner which only exacerbated Maduk's anger. I didn't wait for his response. I rolled to my side and hopped to my feet; dodging the minotaur's fist. Arms reaching, he took a step closer and leaned heavily against a leg, bending by the waist to get down at my eye level.

He was asking for it.

I raised a hand and let loose; he was met with a full force of a Hurricane. Bands of crashing wind rushed out from within my palm, enveloping the minotaur and lifting him off his feet. Behind him, I could see Maduk getting ready to pounce. I sent the minotaur flying backwards with his heels over his head. With calculated precision, he crashed against Maduk. The two became a tangled mess of shoving limbs.

I bit my lip, feeling my energy being sucked right out of me. An explosion sounded off. I craned my neck. Behind me, through all the dust and debris being kicked up into the air, I spotted the female djinn swiftly dodging attacks made by Abraham. It seemed like I had an ally. A lousy one at that.

_This is taking too damn long._

Abraham waved his knife all about him erratically, making large sweeping motions towards the djinn. As stupid as he looked, it was effective. The knife was nothing but pure silver. Just its presence alone made my essence curl. In his other hand, he held a sphere. An Elemental Sphere. He gripped it with such fierceness that I feared that he'll accidentally shatter the glass with his own bare hands. As long as she had him preoccupied, I didn't care. Nathaniel was my priority.

I took a step forward. My breathing hitched. Nathaniel was nowhere to be seen.

I quickly scanned the room. Nowhere.

_No. No, no, no._

Suspiciously, Stefan and Anne were missing too. This isn't good. I took another step – my legs gave out.

I crumbled down onto my knees, stilling my shaky hands. A quivering feeling blossomed from the pit of my stomach.

_I'm still here. Nathaniel is still alive. That's all I need._

I swallowed my anxiety down. I need to do better than this. I'll make myself useful and help this mystery djinn wipe out this old magician. This was taking way longer than it should have been. He should have been dead long ago. Picking myself up, I took notice of my hand for the first time.

"Shit."

I watched my left hand lose its definition for a few seconds; a blurry mess of oozing essence spilling out from its form. It was almost as if a child had colored me outside the lines. I willed my essence to bring back the shape of my hand. My essence flickered and shimmered but did nothing. I tried again, forcing my hand to a fist. Again, nothing. No matter how much effort I put in, my essence continued flowing out of its shape. It was like controlling water. This was useless; _I was useless._

I looked back behind me. The female djinn was closing in on Abraham but was extremely wary of his weapons. Abraham held the Sphere high above his head, as if threatening to throw it against the ground. A bluff, maybe. If worse comes to worst, the Sphere will come crashing down and the force will cause this room to be cleared out. It could potentially kill everyone in this vicinity. I silently prayed that Stefan and Anne _actually took_ Nathaniel away – away from the damn Elemental Sphere. Where the hell did he even pull that out from, anyways?

"Feeling rather oozy, Bartimaeus?"

_Damn it_.

Tearing my eyes from the commotion, I noticed that Maduk had finally managed to disentangle himself from the minotaur. He stood on all fours, his red mane looking matted as ever.

I sighed, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. Looks like I'm going to have to fight one-handed.

"I would really appreciate it if you continued playing Twister with your friend there," I mocked. I kept my left hand close to my chest. Knowing Maduk, he'll probably reach for it and weaken it even more.

"I see you've brought back up," he continued, nodding his head towards the commotion behind me. "Is she a friend of yours?"

"Nope. No idea who she is or where she came from."

Maduk laughed haughtily. "Oh, come off it. Just admit that you're _weak_, Bartimaeus. Time and time again, you fail to protect."

I made a face. "Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, I'm still standing. As long as I'm here, he's still around. I didn't fail shit."

From behind Maduk, the minotaur was finally getting up on his haunches.

"I've had enough of you," he said. He almost sounded exhausted.

"The feeling is mutual, bud. Why don't you take a nap? All that running around and talking can really tire out someone like you –"

The minotaur screamed. I would be lying if I said it didn't startle me. The minotaur launched himself towards me; pushing past and successfully knocking down the frazzled lion.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Maduk shouted.

I panicked and scrambled to my feet; horns pierced the ground where I had been sitting. The force of the collision caused the ground shake and I nearly lost my footing. The minotaur raised its head, tearing his horns from the ground. A chunk of the ground remained lodged into his horn, bits of cement and stone cascading around his face.

"You got a lil' something on your horn, pal." I pointed out.

"Bartimaeus, shut the fuck up!" Maduk shouted over the sound of the minotaur's screams.

A heavy fist came swinging at me; I ducked just in time.

"I AM - NOT – YOUR - FRIEND!"

With each word, the minotaur swung his fist as if for emphasis. I jumped and dodged and hopped. With every swing, the minotaur seemed to get stronger. I was only getting slower while my energy continued to leak out from my hand. It seemed as if his anger was only making him want to destroy me even more. I took a mental note to take Maduk's advice.

Maduk prowled behind me, taking great care to stay away from the minotaur's erratic attacks. From his paws, he let out a Detonation. I sidestepped, letting the Detonation zoom right past me. Maduk let out a cry of contempt.

"Fight back, Bartimaeus! Or are you going to continue this long ritual of dancing and escaping?"

With quick steps, I avoided another blast. From above, hooves rained down on me; I darted to the left and landed unceremoniously on my knees. I took a quick glance at my hand – my entire hand was nothing but a chaotic glob. My wrist was beginning to blur. I bit my lip and willed my essence one last time.

"Running away didn't work the first time, did it? Tell me, Bartimaeus, how did it end."

A Detonation blasted to my left; thankfully Maduk was always a bad aim. Unfortunately, due to the debris caused by the blast, I didn't see the good sized chunk of cement fly straight at me. It hit me straight onto my chest, knocking the wind out of me. I fell flat on my back, wheezing like some asthmatic child. Propping myself up with my elbows, I raised my right hand. And hesitated.

Casting any more magic will only make my physical state worse. I could potentially fall unconscious. It was taking everything in me to keep the leaking essence from degrading even more. Evidently enough, Maduk noticed as well.

"Do it," he taunted. "Cast that Detonation. Show me what the great _Rekhyt _can do."

He slowly prowled towards me, his tail twitching anxiously. Behind him, the minotaur stood by, frowning down at me. I glanced past the minotaur.

I lowered my hand. I'm not going to win this fight. But I didn't have to.

"Well, am I glad to see some familiar British fucks."


	22. Found

_Bartimaeus_

Men wearing the familiar navy-blue Night Police uniform rushed into the scene. Each and every one of them looked hungry for a chase. Jane, brown leather coat billowing about her, was in the center of the rush barking out orders. Behind her, trying her best to not be swept up with the crowd, stood the old crone Ms. Whitwell. She looked just as pale and pointy as the day I met her.

As the Night Police swarmed into the small room, the red skinned djinn lost her composure. Abraham took a swipe. A flash of silver slashed at her side. I heard a shout; an Illumination was casted, flooding the room with a bright flash. As expected, everyone in the room was temporarily blinded. I cursed, blinking. Squinting, I saw Newton's Law come into play; an object in movement remains in movement unless acted upon by a force. The Night Police didn't stop.

Several things happened at once.

Running full force, eyes screwed shut, the first Night Police tripped over some debris. Then the man behind him, eyes also screwed shut, tripped over his comrade's body. Like a sack of potatoes, he crumbled onto the floor next to his friend. Then the next guy tripped over him. And the next… _And the next._ Before I knew it, like a stack of unstable dominoes, the entire Night Police force have all stumbled and tripped over each other's bodies, elbows and knees prodding into each other.

I would have promptly face palmed out of secondhand embarrassment, but Abraham caught my attention. Wild eyes wide open, he raised his hand; the Elemental Sphere caught the light. I bolted upright and braced myself.

"Son of a bi—"

There was the sound of glass breaking, followed by a deafening crashing sound. I didn't have time to move. I blinked once; an invisible force shoved me back. My back collided with the wall. There was another quick bright flash; another roaring sound that drowned out the shouts and shrieks. I reeled, blinking and guarding my eyes. Debris and bodies were lifted into the air and flung in different directions. I barely spotted a chunk of heavy stone flying towards me; I ducked in time. Dust rained just above my head. I screwed my eyes shut, expecting for more.

Another wave of force, stronger than the first. It rippled through the room, knocking anything and anyone in its path down. I felt a great invisible weight pin me against the wall. There was a loud rushing sound in my ears. I struggled to even think about my next moves. It didn't let up. I felt myself being released; another wave took its place. It beat against my weakened essence, threatening to pull me apart. My formless hand became nothing. The outlines of my forearm were almost non-existent. My throat was raw now; I coughed and gasped as I choked on dust. It took me a moment to realize that I was screaming.

A weaker wave rippled through the room. It lapped up on me, gently nudging me back. The Elemental Sphere was finally dying out. I peered into the dusty room. The room didn't even look recognizable anymore. Walls were blown out and the ground was covered in soot and dust. Nothing remained of all the furniture. Bodies were strewn across the floor, some moving and some not.

Where Abraham once stood, there was a scorched mark and a trail of smoke coiling up to the ceiling. Just like the attack at the Prime Minister's place. His body was nowhere to be found. I spotted a disheveled Jane and Whitwell hunkering down behind the red skinned djinn on the other end of the room. The djinn held her side, her face twisted in pain. The lion and the minotaur were nowhere to be seen.

With exhausted muscles, I staggered to my feet.

"Bartimaeus!" Jane called out after me.

I waved dismissive hand. "Not now. Na- _Mandrake_ needs me."

She huffed. "I know. I saw two people taking him. Through that door."

I stood there, staring at her like an idiot. In that moment, my head was just completely empty. Her words took awhile for it to sink in. I swore it must have been the long summoning taking its toll on me. Otherwise I wouldn't have looked stupid in front of her, Whitwell and her cronies. I blinked at her and she stared back, impatience creeping up on her. A lightbulb went off in my head.

"Oh."

She made a face at me. "_Oh?_ Find him, dammit."

I turned and faced the door I had busted through not too long ago. I knew exactly where he was at now. So much time was wasted. I couldn't afford to loiter around anymore.

I raked my brain trying to remember the many different right and left turns the minotaur took back when I followed him. It _was_ difficult to say the least. It was like looking through a fogged-up lens. My mind was slow and every thought I had was just a flicker of a memory.

At the end of the hallway, I saw movement.

I panicked; a shot of Detonation blasted from the palm of my hand. I heard a shriek and a girl dropped down to her knees. She held her hands up as she cowered away. I ignored my unraveling essence and took a long good look at her. There was a faint trickle of recognition. A few seconds passed.

_Oh_. Anne. Fuck, I _really_ need to go back home.

I stalked towards her. Well, I tried to. Difficult when you're limping. I raised my hand at her, half forming the Detonation. She pressed herself against the wall, refusing to look up.

"Please, no!" Anne cried. "I was just doing what Alec was telling me to do. I – I don't' have a home. He took me in and – and I felt like I should repay him. I didn't –"

"He's in the room I was prisoned in, isn't he?"

She hiccupped through her tears and nodded, still refusing to meet my eyes. "Yes, he's there. Take the first stairs down this hallway. Go left, and you'll find another stair. Keep going down. Y-you'll find him. Stefan, he – um – has him there."

I made the Detonation glow a little brighter. It hummed just loud enough for her to hear. She whimpered. I bit my lip. If I let this Detonation go, I'm only weakening myself. My left arm was now nothing from the elbow down. I couldn't even think as quickly anymore. I let the Detonation die down.

Shaking, she slowly looked up at me. Her face was mottled with pink and red and her nose dribbled with snot.

"Run."

I didn't need to tell her twice. She scampered past me without looking back. As for me, I took her directions. Once I came across the caved in walls down the hall, I knew where I was at. I just simply followed the trail of destruction. What remained of the door hung by the hinges. I slammed it open, sending the rest of the door flying across the damp room.

I heard a shout. Peering into the room, I stepped in.

Stefan stood in the center of the room, dragging an unconscious Nathaniel across the floor.

"Get the fuck away from him!" I shouted.

Stefan shrieked, stumbling over his feet. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He promptly dropped Nathaniel and raised his arms, shielding his face. From my good hand, I let a Detonation form. It was a small pulsing red light, but it was all it took.

"Get out or I will kill you," I warned.

He cowered, cursing profusely.

"Now!"

He was jittery but he wasn't stupid. Okay, maybe a little. As he ran, he stumbled over a crate. Just like with Anne, I let him run past me. I waited for his footsteps to fade as he went down the dark hallway. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I had enough energy in me to kill him. That wasn't important though. Nathaniel was important. I immediately rushed to his side.

Underneath all his black and blue bruises, his skin looked pale. I reached up to move the strands of his hair that framed his face. Despite the onset of his fever this morning, he felt cold. He wore no expression. He was just quiet.

"Nat?"

No response, just shallow breathing.

"I need you to wake up, Nat."

Again, no response. I lightly shook his shoulder.

I raised my voice slightly, panic setting in. "Nathaniel. Wake the fuck up."

A whimper. I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I was holding in.

I scowled, thinking on my next steps. Between finding us, and having the situation settled down with the foreign police and government, it'll take hours before Nathaniel would receive any medical attention. I don't even know how long ago it was that Nathaniel took the poison. I screwed my eyes shut, trying to remember basic human anatomy. I only had one option. But it was difficult to say if it would make any difference. It was better than nothing. I looked down at my arm – or what was once my arm. I let out a curse. This will be difficult.

"I need to do something. It's going to be uncomfortable, okay? Nat…?"

It was subtle but he nodded.

With one arm, I awkwardly scooped up Nathaniel and held him against my chest. Even with my one bad leg, I managed to scoot ourselves and propped myself against the wall. With some difficulty, I placed Nathaniel to sit between my legs, his back pressing down against my chest. His head lolled back. For the first time, I noticed a thin gash across his throat. It was so faint that I could scarcely see it in the dim lighting. Even so, it was enough for me to realize how close his death was. How close I almost came to losing him. I resisted the urge to nuzzle against his bare throat. Now's not the time.

With my chest, I gently nudged him. Now leaning away from me, his head fell forward, his hair falling in place around his face like a black curtain. I reached my arm over his shoulder to his face.

"Open your mouth."

He complied quietly. Carefully and gently, my fingers slipped past his bruised lips and past his tongue. Pressing his tongue down, I pushed my fingers to the back of his throat. Almost immediately, his body reacted. He gagged and heaved, his shoulder shaking. Within seconds, just after retreating my arm back, his body jerked, and the contents of his stomach spewed out onto ourselves. I shifted our position slightly so he wouldn't continue vomiting over himself.

"Let it out," I whispered, brushing his hair back with a hand as he vomited.

He heaved and coughed as his body shook violently with each stomach contraction. It took several minutes for his body to subside. With each and every heave, the intensity lessened. Finally, after a long moment of stillness, he was able to rest. He sat there, leaning against my leg, breathing heavily. Drips of bile and saliva dribbled over his mouth but, for now, he was fine and that was all that mattered.

"How do you feel?"

He sniffed, sitting silently, as if preparing himself to form the words he needed to say

"I… like shit."

I paused. "Y-you like shit?"

"No. I feel like shit."

He raised a hand and lightly touched his face, flinching when his finger grazed his nose. Now that I was looking at it, it did looked crooked.

"Wh-what happened?"

I shifted and nudged him carefully towards me. Wincing, he leaned back against my chest. I pressed my arm around him, securing him close to me. I took this opportunity to nuzzle my face into his hair.

"Jane came."

"Jane..?"

"Yeah."

"Oh…"

We sat there for a minute. Uncertainty hung over us like a dark cloud. Our thoughts were far away but together. While playing undercover cops and spies, we were dancing around each other, never on beat. He'll step in and I'll step out. Only once did we finally managed to get our hearts in synch and dance together. But we didn't speak of it. It was like a giant elephant in the room. The giant elephant that we chose to ignore. And Jane's appearance was the giant sign with neon lights pointing at the elephant. Without meaning to, I've found myself interlacing my fingers between his. When the time comes, we will talk of… _this_. Or maybe not. I looked at his hands. They were frail and pale. I could trace out the blue veins that ran underneath his soft skin. I snorted.

"How could someone as frail as you always end up in these life-threatening situations? What is with vulnerable people and dangerous past times?"

His voice was quiet, but I could detect a smile. "Who said I was frail? I just took a beating of a lifetime and I'm still standing."

"Correction: you're on the ground leaning against me. I wouldn't be surprised if a gust of wind could knock you down."

"That wouldn't happen though. Not with you around."

I could practically hear the elephant trumpeting around, demanding to be addressed. I bit the inside of my cheek. I cleared my throat.

"Erm – Nat? I know now isn't the right time but… About –um – us. What are we doing? I mean, I know what we're doing. What I mean is –"

"I don't know."

"What?"

He took a moment to cough. "People… _will_ talk. Fraternizing with the demon. I'll lose my position. I'll lose the trust. I'll lose… so much. I don't know what I was doing. Or expected."

I nodded but I didn't say anything. I expected this answer.

"For Jane," he continued, wincing as he lifted himself off me. "I'll just tell her that we aren't compatible."

Footsteps sounded, thundering down the hallway. That was our cue. Nathaniel and I disentangled ourselves from each other. Suddenly, I felt almost incomplete; a piece of me taken away. I lifted myself up, helping Nathaniel to his feet. He wobbled but kept stayed upright. I reached out a hand; he slapped it away.

"I'm fine Bartimaeus. I apologize about your state. I'll release you."

"Wait, what?"

I wanted to argue but Jane appeared at the door and stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide open. Trailing behind her were the only few Night Police members that somehow survived the attack. Perhaps out of shock with Nathaniel's condition, she didn't move. I could tell she was restraining herself though.

"John? Are you alright?"

Nathaniel nodded. Looking back at me, he snapped his fingers.

My essence responded, I went. For the second time in my life, I went with a sinking feeling in my chest.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Author Notes:

I'm not ending it here! Don't worry 😊


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